


We're Supposed to be a Team

by Silvergray1358



Series: Screw Them, I Love You [6]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Video Game 2018), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Action, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Beginner's Breathplay, Body Image, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Boyfriends, Breathplay, Confessions, Conspiracy, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Topping, Hand Jobs, Harry Osborn stirring up shit, How Do I Tag, Jealous Wade Wilson, Kissing, Like Crazy Jealous, M/M, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Riding, Rimming, Romance, Saving The City, Science Nerd Peter, Smut, Spider-Man on the PS4 Anyone?, Switching, Top Peter Parker/Bottom Wade Wilson, Unnegotiated Kinks, Weasel's Shitty Friend Advice, classic spider-man villains, kinks gone wrong, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-08-11 12:19:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvergray1358/pseuds/Silvergray1358
Summary: Peter’s internship at Octavius Labs was going great until Norman Osborn burst through the door and threatened their entire work. Meanwhile, Wade is tracking down the mysterious culprit behind a new mutant drug that could either cure a laundry list of dangerous diseases or infect the masses with a deadly plague. Can both Spiderman and Deadpool do what they have to or will their relationship be put through the wringer?





	1. Peter's Other Job

     Manhattan sparkled in the glow of neon and headlights. It was a crisp, autumn night, the sun having just set, and the streets blew dead leaves around the heels of people slipping inside warm buildings to escape the wind. It was relatively quiet for the metropolis, except in Tompkins Square Park, just outside the grove of trees near the clock-tower.    

     “The lady said no and it sounded like she meant it, fellas,” Peter sassed, dodging the man thundering towards him and shooting a web at his back, ricocheting him forward and sticking him to the brick wall of the tower.

     The second thug charged at Wade but he swung his fist as the young gangster got close, connecting clean with his jaw, and the dude fell like a ton of bricks at Wade’s feet.

     “Oh, that was just sad,” Wade frowned.

     “Heads up, Red,” Peter said, swinging over and landing down behind him. Most of the young men had run when the super-pair found them crowding in on a woman being loud enough to make her discomfort known. Unfortunately, not all of them.

     A man, six-foot-six at least and built like a brick shit house, bellowed out a roar as he barreled towards them. Peter booked it forward and as the man went to grab for him, Peter used the man’s arms and momentum against him to swing himself up, getting his thighs in a choke-hold around the giant’s throat and flipping them down to the ground. The thug hit the ground hard and knocked himself out on the dirt.  

     Peter stood up and dusted himself off.

     “Daaaaamn, Webs, that was hot.”

     Peter chuckled and opened his mouth to speak but the alarm on his cell phone went off in the small suit pocket at his hip.

     “Oh shit, I’m gonna be late,” Peter gasped. He shot himself up onto the street lamp nearby but paused, crouching, and looked back.

     “Go on ahead, Spidey. I’ll take care of these gentlemen until the fuzz arrives,” Wade said with a wave of his hand.

     “Are you sure?” Peter worried.

     “Heck yeah! I’ll wrap these baddies up! I’ll just grab the rope from my bag and…” Wade’s head whipped around and he even tried to look behind at his own back. “Aw shit! Have you seen my bag?”

     “You mean the one that you always leave on the kitchen table?”

     “Dammit! I knew I was forgetting something.” Wade placed his hands on his hips. “I guess I’m just gonna have to keep an eye on them. Look at that one, I don’t trust him,” he said, pointing to one thug on the ground that had managed one, deep groan as he flipped onto his back and then passed out.

     “Hold on,” Peter started, pulling his own backpack off and digging under his set of spare clothes. He pulled out what he was looking for and tossed it down to Wade. He snagged it out of the air and gasped out loud.

     “Are you sure?!” Wade asked excitedly, strapping on the spare web-shooter to his wrist and pantomiming shooting it with tiny ‘ _thwipthwipthwip’_ s under his breath.

     “That should help you out for the night.”

     “Fuck yeah it will!”

     “And I can trust you with that?”

     “Absolutely!”

     “No repeats of last time then?” he prodded.

     “What? I only wrote you a message Charlotte’s Web-style…”

     “You wrote ‘ _I heart Spidey’s butt’_ between two buildings in Chinatown.”

     “It was a love note!” Wade shouted and Peter laughed, shaking his head.

     “Deadpool…”

     “Okay, okay, Spidey. You can trust me.” He snapped the heels of his boots together and saluted.

     Peter chuckled. “Alright, DP. Text you later.”

     Wade blew him a kiss and Peter was off, zipping himself out of the square and away into the night. Wade waited diligently like promised until the police pulled around the corner and then zipped himself up to the top of the clock-tower with a squee to watch from above. He paused once he reached the top, tilting his head as he tried to figure out what he was looking at on the rooftop.

     “I’ll have to show Peter this…” he whispered.

 

     ~*~

 

     Peter landed softly on the rooftop of the lab in Greenwich Village. He ducked behind a brick partition near the solid metal door and hid as he ripped his jeans and shirt out of his bag and changed as fast as he could without tumbling off the side. He stowed his suit in his bag and hid it where he always did before he used his badge to unlock the door and slip inside. His white lab coat hung on the hook in the tiny maintenance hallway and Peter tossed it on, fixing the collar at the last second, as he walked into the lab.

     Doctor Otto Octavius was standing across the lab and Peter rushed over.

     “I’m sorry I’m late, I--,” Peter started, but cut himself off as he took in the sight of Otto hooked in to their latest prototype. The Doctor was not a very tall man, and the extra pounds around his waist that had gathered over the years and receding hairline did little to make him look any younger than he was normally, but he looked now almost ten years younger as his face beamed at the mechanical arm set up on the table next to him. When Otto raised his own arm, the signal traveled as fast as the speed of light to the sensor bar secured to his spine with thick leather straps around his torso. Down the signal traveled still, through the massive wires connecting him to the computers and over to the mechanical arm which mimicked his motions perfectly.

     “You started without me.”

     Otto nodded but didn’t tear his eyes away from the robotic arm. “The grant committee’s director will be here soon,” he smiled.

     Peter eyed the cords hooked to Otto’s back.

     “It’s fine, Parker. I invented this equipment, I think I can handle it.”

     A loud cracking sound shot through the room and both of them whipped their heads to the side where one of the wires connected to the computer sparked bright orange and began to smoke.

     “Power dampener,” Peter gasped and the ran towards the blown circuit. Thick, black smoke was billowing from the fried equipment and the metal was too hot to even touch. “Um, maybe we should abort.”

     “Not yet!” Otto shouted. Another spark hissed out and Peter ducked out of the way. Otto reached back behind his neck to the sensor but suddenly screamed out as the voltage shocked through his system briefly.

     “Hold on!” Peter dashed to the main controls and hit the kill switch. The whole section of the lab went dark and smoke swirled up to the ceiling.

     “Doctor Octavius! Are you okay?” Peter reached Otto but the man was already unhooking himself from the equipment and letting it fall away as he stood up.

     “Another setback,” he said, reassuring Peter with a pat on the back. He rubbed the back of his neck and winced, but then smiled. “But we’re close.”

     The main door to the lab swung open and the grant committee walked in. All three of them gasped at the sight before them. The woman in the front, the grant director, coughed and tried to wave the smoke out of her eyes.

     “Is anyone hurt?” she asked.

     “No. It… it was my fault,” Peter began, but Otto interrupted him and hurried over to the director.

     “The energy levels exceeded our expectations. From a certain viewpoint, that’s a very positive development.”

     “It doesn’t smell very positive,” she said with a leveling glare.

     “I assure you, in the next phase--””

     “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She coughed again. “Is there somewhere else we can discuss this?”

     Otto sighed and turned to Peter. “Maybe you should take the rest of the night off, Peter.”

     “But--

     “We’ll talk later,” Otto smiled. He gave Peter’s shoulder another pat and turned to walk the committee back out the way they came to his private office next door.

     That was a disaster. How could the dampener have failed? Peter knew that Otto had said to take the night off... but he had to check.

     He walked over to the manual reset switch on the wall and the lights flickered back on. The air vents pulled most of the smoke away but it would take a while to get rid of the smell of burnt plastic.  

     Peter picked up the manual controller off the table next to the mechanical arm. It was to be a cutting-edge prosthetic: a marvel of bio-engineering pioneering the future for better health. Now though, it barely moved with he prompted it. The arm jerked and skipped and it had lost almost its entire range of movement from the short-out.  

     “Oh… you are in bad shape, little guy.”

     He put the controller down and checked the computer monitor. He ran a diagnostic test but immediately several systems flared up red. The servo control path was damaged, but it didn’t take him long to fix it, reconnect the servo motor, and power the voltage control again.

     “Let’s see if that works.”

     This time the arm was flawless, swiveling smoothly and one hundred percent responsive again. Peter sighed in relief and sat down on the rolling stool next to him. This job was incredibly important and he needed to prove to Doctor Octavius that he was worthy of it. At least Doc would be happy to see he got the arm going again.

     Peter reached into his pocket and started texting Wade to see if he’d like to do more patrolling now that he was free. Who knew what Wade had gotten up to while he was gone.

     He put his phone off to the side and looked around. Otto had asked him to review some of his work if Peter got the time and he figured no time like the present. He rolled over to the spectrograph and got lost in the work for a few minutes until he heard his phone go off.

     He checked it and smiled despite himself.

_See you soon, schnookums._

     He made for the roof exit to suit up and flipped the lights on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone!


	2. Wade's Side Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say sorry for how I'm about to pick apart the Spider-Man video game like a vulture for my own needs. >//<

     The riff-raff at Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Girls was minimal this seasonably cool Wednesday night and Wade Wilson in his full Deadpool suit was the only person sitting at the grimy bar counter. His mask was rolled up to his nose and he was working on polishing off a Labatt Blue.

     “You’re looking for a job? Now? What happened to your nightly ‘ _superheroing_ ’?” Weasel asked skeptically. He stood, leaning up against the back bar, drinking his own beer.

     “I’ve got a little extra time on my hands since Spidey got his other job.”

     “Uh-huh.”

     “What does that ‘ _uh-huh’_ friggin’ mean?”

     “I’m just saying,” Weasel shrugged. “Ditching you to work all these late hours? It sounds to _me_ like he’s cheating on you.”

     {{HE WOULDN’T!}} Yellow gasped.

     [[We should kick Weasel’s ass,]] White growled.

     Wade took a deep gulp of his beer, refusing to look at Weasel. “You’re deranged.”

     “You honestly never thought it?” the be-speckled man pried, leaning in closer. He rested his arms on the bar top and cursed when he got his shirtsleeve soaked in a puddle of beer. He ripped out a towel from under the counter with a shake of his head. “I mean, how long have you two been together for now?”

     “Five months…”

     “Uh-huh.”

     “Stop with the fucking ‘ _uh-huh_ ’s!” Wade slammed the empty beer bottle on the counter and shoved it at Weasel.

     “It’s the six-month curse!” Weasel defended. He grabbed a new bottle for Wade and slid it over. “Half of all relationships fall apart before the six month mark.”

     “You’re making that up.”

     “Well, we’ll see…”

     “He’s just gotta work weird hours, Weas! Jesus Christ. I didn’t come here for your Jerry Springer bullshit anyway. I came here to see if you’ve got any fucking jobs or not.”

     Weasel shrugged it off, grabbing a new beer for himself.

     “There’s one guy that owes Lil’ T some money...”

     “What about anything with, I don’t know, underground drug lords?”

     “That’s oddly specific,” Weasel glared.

     Wade’s phone chirped from his pocket and he dug it out. It was a text from Peter, but he tucked it back away.

     “I’m sniffing around.”

     “Well, sniff somewhere else. I don’t got a thing for you, pal.”

     Wade sighed and was about to swig down the rest of his bottle when his phone started to ring. He was expecting it to be Peter but the name on the screen read ‘Cap’.

     “Gotta take this,” he said, getting up from the bar and slipping down into the back hallway for privacy.

     “It’s the star-spangled man with a plan!”

     “Hey, Wade,” Rogers said with a laugh. “I have to admit, it’s been a while since someone called me that.”

[[Don’t get Yellow started with the singing,]] White begged. Yellow huffed in response.

“And to what do I owe the honor of this little chat?”

“Well,” Rogers paused. “You asked me to keep you up to date.”

     “Anything good?”

     “I’ve been looking over the police reports the past couple of weeks and I’ve noticed something in the paperwork.”

     {{UUUUGH. Paperwork is SOOOOO boring,]] Yellow groaned.

     [[Maybe it’s a clue,]] White reasoned.

     “Something we missed?”

     “No, not quite. Actually it’s something new. I’ve checked the records on every location that Chameleon hit. Each derelict building is here in the records as being inspected by the police, cleaned, and put up for public auction but... something’s wrong.”

     “Like what?” Wade stepped further down the hall, away from the noise of the jukebox.

     “Not only was each sale exceptionally quick with little-to-no press coverage, but they’re all missing documents-- things like recent tax statements, property lien claims, even copies of the final purchase and sale agreements. Now, I doubt the city would be foolish enough to sell those buildings illegally but it feels like someone wanted to sweep them all under a rug.”

     “Like they knew it wouldn’t look good…”

     “Exactly. And on top of that, the same name signed off on any documents I _could_ find: The Deputy Mayor for Economic Development and Housing-- Shirley Woodrow.”

     “Wait, wait, wait. Someone from the Mayor’s office?”

     “Yeah…”

     “You don’t honestly think that the Mayor could have something to do with whoever is making the drugs,” Wade asked, pacing the hallway now.

     Rogers sighed heavily and Wade could hear the weight on his shoulders from across town. “I’m not sure…”

     “I’ll look into,” Wade declared.

     “Now, don’t do anything potentially illegal, Wade.”

     “Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. He leaned back against the wall and the leather of his suit squeaked against the old, wood boards.

     “We don’t know if we’re dealing with anything here or not. Just keep me in the loop and I’ll do the same for you, okay?”

     “Scout’s honor.”

     “Alright, then. Say hello to Spiderman for me,” Rogers signed off.

     “Will do.” Wade hung up the phone and stood there in thought for a moment, trying to think around Yellow whisper-singing a patriotic jingle. He looked back down at his phone and opened his text from Peter as he walked back to the bar.

     _Meeting didn’t go quite as planned. Got the rest of the night off. Wanna meet back up?_

Wade typed out a response and slipped his phone back into his suit.

     “Keep me posted, Weas,” he said and Weasel tossed him a head-nod as he made for the door.

 

     ~*~

 

     “What are we doing back here?”

     “I wanted to show you something,” Wade explained, dragging Peter by the hand across the street towards Tompkins Square Park.

     “It’s not another love note, is it?”

     “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it. But no! Not this time, baby boy. It’s like... some abandoned UFO or something, you gotta see it.”

     “An abandoned UFO on the top of a clock-tower in the middle of Manhattan?”

     “I don’t know, you’re the smart one. Come on!” he said excitedly and the two of them reached the bottom of the tower in the now desolate park. Peter shot a line of webbing and jumped. He got to the top and although he heard a soft ‘ _thwip’,_ some mumbled curses, and boots scraping against brick, Wade made it up right behind him.

     “Woooow,” Peter breathed. “I can’t believe you found this.”

     Near the south side of the clock-tower sat a huge metal cube. It had to be nearly twelve feet across each way, windowless, and right before them stood a steel door. The vines of ivy that had consumed the side of the building had made it up to the roof as well and a lacework of orange-tipped leaves and vines had knitted themselves wildly over the metal cube.

     “Let me guess…you know exactly what this is, don’t you?”

     “Actually, yes,” Peter chuckled. He walked up to the side near the metal door and dug his fingers into the tangle of vines. They tore off with barely any resistance. Underneath, on the chrome outside, was the name OSCORP painted in faded letters.

     “Oscorp?”

     “Yeah. It’s one of their old research stations,” Peter explained. His fingers ghosted over what appeared to be a small touch screen next to the entrance but it was dark and unresponsive. “My friend’s mom built these for Oscorp to benefit the public. She passed away though... and when he left for school in Europe a couple of years ago, he asked me to look after them.”

     “What happened to this one?”

     “It looks like the power was cut to it. Maybe that’s why I never found this one when I was tracking them down…” Peter mumbled to himself as he walked around the metal cube. Wade followed right behind him and watched as Peter started tearing off more of the overgrown vines. After a couple of good pulls, he found a panel on the side and crouched to pop it open. Wade couldn’t make heads or tails of the nest of wires inside but Peter only took a second before he reached in.

     “Here it is.”

     The low hum of electricity started and Peter stood back up. Back on the front, the touch screen lit up. The Oscorp name flashed for a moment before it finished loading and changed to a code input screen.

     Peter typed in a string of numbers but the screen flashed red and beeped three times at him.

     “Huh, that’s weird…”

     He typed in the code again but the door still didn’t open.

     “It was always Harry’s birthday, I don’t understand.” Peter put his hands on his hips and sighed.

     “Aaaaw, but I really wanted to see inside!” Wade groaned.

     Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe…” He tried again, but this time instead of Harry’s birth date, he tried his own on a whim. The screen flashed green. The seal on the door cracked open and the creaky metal slid aside. Fluorescent strips of light on the ceiling flickered on, slowly illuminating the tiny room as the men stepped inside.

     “So… this place was researching… what again?”

     “Typically environmental hazards that could threaten everyday health in the city. You know… air pollution emissions, hazardous waste… those sorts of things,” Peter explained. He walked across the metal plated floor and up to a glistening, chrome control panel. Wade followed behind but he figured he'd probably ruin something important if he even accidentally bumped anything.

     “Let's see if we can start it up and see what this one was looking into…” Peter pulled off his mask and leaned down to type.

     Wade glanced around.

     [[Oscorp, huh?]]

     {{Ooo, look at the cute way Spidey sciences!}}

     [[His ass does look perfectly mouthwatering…]]

     {{Do you think he'd let us get frisky in here?!}} 

     “There's a recording,” Peter said, ripping Wade back from his thoughts. Peter hit a button and stood up as the recording started.

     “ _Hey, Pete. If you’re listening to this, then you figured out the new password. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you. I um… dad’s actually waiting for me downstairs and the car’s running…_ ”

     The voice on the message was friendly and warm sounding, but at the same time it sounded like this guy was bone-deep exhausted.

     “ _I think someone tried to break into this particular research lab… I don’t know. Just do me a favor and keep it running? As long as they’re still here… it’s like mom’s still here too_.”

     The recording ended. Peter turned and looked up at Wade.

     “That was recorded almost eight years ago…”

     “Well… at least late is better than never,” Wade shrugged.

     “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighed. “Something just seems fishy about this. We should see what this station was researching.” Peter turned back to the monitor and typed away.

     “This station was looking into the local water run-off. Apparently the water was testing positive for trace amounts of potentially dangerous chemicals. Something the lab couldn’t test further without a more concentrated source…”

     “But... this is Manhattan,” Wade leveled. “This whole city is a cesspool of ‘potentially dangerous chemicals’.”

     Peter huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, but I think I’ve got a hit.” He hit a button and a map popped up on screen. Wade saw the neat square where the park sat in the criss-cross of streets and avenues. To the east, a red dot blinked over a huge building directly next door.

     “Holy shit,” Wade whispered.

     Peter turned to him and his face was beaming, making his eyes crinkle, and Wade's heart squeezed in his chest.

     “Let's go check it out,” Peter grinned.

 

     ~*~

 

     The factory building adjacent to the park was massive in the dark, like a hollowed out corpse of a beast left to bleach in the sun and be picked apart by the rodents. The thick, cement walls were daunting and fortress-like from the sidewalk. Wade eyed the lines of boarded up windows as they stared unblinkingly down at the two men; watching them closely and waiting as they dared to approach.

     They walked around the perimeter for a couple of minutes. Peter was searching the outside with a thorough eye but Wade didn’t know what they were really even looking for. When they reached back where they started, Peter sighed.

     “We’re gonna have to go in.”   

     “We are?” Wade asked, following Peter around to the back alley. The light bulb above the back door was smashed long ago and the men slipped into the shadows away from the street. Peter walked straight up to the door, but when he reached out and tugged on the handle, the door rattled in its frame with a shake but did not give.

     “What about…” Peter started, stepping back to look up.

     About six feet above the door was a small air vent.  

     “Perfect,” he whispered. Peter placed his fingertips to the cement wall and scaled it, sticking effortlessly.

     “Are you seriously about to break and enter?” Wade asked, stuck on the ground with his hands on his hips.

     Peter snorted. “Are you seriously judging me for breaking and entering?” The metal cover of the vent popped open with a squeaky groan as Peter forced it off.

     “Hell no! I'm just incredibly turned on.”

     Peter laughed and shook his head.

     “It's our duty to check and the building's abandoned anyway.”

     “Hey, you don't have to convince me, baby boy.”

     Peter peeked inside the vent and glanced back down.

     “It looks like it goes straight in. Wait here and I'll open the door for you.”

     “Aye aye, Detective Spidey.”

     Wade waited patiently for as long as he could, but to be honest, he was never very good at being patient.

     “Spidey?” he called out in the dark. “Did the ghosts get you?”

     Just silence.

     “Spidey!”

     Wade almost jumped out of his skin when the door flew open in front of him. Spiderman's head peeked out and Wade took a deep breath in relief.

     “You alright out here?” Peter chuckled.

     “Oh yeah, 100%, absolutely.”

     Peter grabbed Wade’s hand and the older man followed behind him. Wade didn’t know why, but this place was giving him the spooks. Thankfully, Peter used the flashlight projector on his web-shooter and lit up the dark edges creeping in on them. Regardless still, Wade stuck close to his side.

     The room was huge, some ancient production floor, but it was empty now. Dead leaves and rat turds dirtied the floor and Wade’s boots crunched behind Peter’s light steps. From somewhere in the deep dark, the sound of dripping water echoed.

     “What was this place?” Peter asked. He strolled around, flashlight glow bathing the edges of the room as they walked. Steel counters were nailed to the walls, dusty and empty. The center of the room was wide open, although long, black drag marks streaked the floor-- headed towards the back exit they just came through.

     “I don’t know, but whoever was here blew this popsicle stand.”

     Peter’s flashlight danced across the back wall and exposed the gaping blackness of a long hall.

     All the while the sound of dripping continued. _Plink… plink… plink._

     They followed the noise back, into the hallway, and the air smelted of iron and stale dust.

     At the end of the hallway was an open room. Along the back wall was a counter lined at the top with cupboard after cupboard. Behind the glass doors Wade could see rows of bottles, cotton balls, tongue depressors and other supplies.

     The far left wall was barren except for a single faucet jutting out about four feet off the floor.

     The pipe protruded from the tiled wall a couple of inches out. Whatever it had been attached to was long gone but rusty-brown, brackish liquid dripped from the end and splashed down onto the tilted floor. A small, round drain sat on the ground underneath and the metal had rusted a huge ring stain around it; blood-red and growing outward.

     Another drop grew heavy and plunked down.

     “This might be what we’re looking for,” Peter gasped. He walked to the wooden cupboards by the counter. He pulled back the glass door on one and plucked out a tiny, glass vial from the shelf.

     He uncorked the little topper and got it right under the dripping pipe. Wade glanced around while Peter worked but he couldn’t see much outside of the light’s glow.

     “I’ll have to test this tomorrow at the lab.” Peter corked the vial and tucked it into his hip pocket. He grabbed onto the round valve attached to the pipe. At first the rusted metal didn’t budge, but the corded muscles in his arms flexed, body tight and sculpted in the deep shadows, and the metal screamed in protest as he tightened it further.

     The dripping finally stopped.

     “Well,” Peter shrugged. “That’s probably the best we’re gonna do for tonight."

     “So we’re done then?” Wade asked.  His eyes kept drifting over to the cupboards. The tiled room, the rows of medical supplies… it was… _so familiar._ Yet he knew better, though that didn’t stop the ghosts from whispering in his mind.

     “Come on,” Peter whispered. He took Wade’s hand back in his and the nervous beating in Wade’s heart soaked in the warmth coming from Peter. Maybe the younger man could feel the tension in Wade’s body but he didn’t say anything. Wade was glad.

     “Let’s go home.”


	3. Ups and Downs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a loooong chapter for me, but I couldn't bare to break it up. Thanks everyone so much for the support so far!

     Peter watched in anticipation over Otto’s shoulder as he finished securing the metal prosthetic arm to the man sat before them. The young, African-american man was the pair’s first official patient. His left arm had been amputated at the shoulder after an IED had hit his troop’s truck in Afghanistan. The robotic arm attached to his shoulder was their most simple prototype--the first one actually fit for real test subjects-- but getting to work with an actual person was going to rocket their research by miles.

     “How does it work?”

     “Just like a natural arm,” Otto smiled. He sat at the small card table with the young vet. Between them was an empty, plastic cup. “ You think of what you want to do, and…”

     Slowly, the veteran’s fingers began to unfold and reach out. With a careful focus, he grasped the plastic cup perfectly and lifted it off the table.

     “Yes!” Peter gasped.

     The main doors of the lab slammed open, shocking all three of them. Men in grey uniforms streamed in, spreading throughout the lab, and plucking boxes of equipment off the shelves, desktops, and storage bins.

     Peter tried to step forward and Otto leapt up right behind him.

     “Hey! Wh-what do you think you’re doing?”

     A woman in a formal pant suit strolled forward and peered at Peter over the top of her glasses.

     “This site’s been declared a safety hazard,” she drawled, shoving a clipboard with the notice at Peter.

     Otto stormed up beside Peter and grabbed it from his hands but he barely glanced at it before he shoved it back, getting distracted as a man walked past him carrying a large duffel bag.

     “Stop that right now! This is highly sensitive equipment,” Otto shouted. He snagged the bag back from the man. “That’s it, I’m calling the mayor’s office directly.”

     “Peter Parker! How the hell are you?” a man boomed from the doorway, arms out wide. Both Peter and Otto spun on the spot.

     “Speak of the devil,” Otto murmured.

     Norman Osborn strolled forward, impeccably dressed in an expensive suit. He was a tall man with an even taller presence. His face was tan despite his light auburn hair but when he smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and eyes gave away a hint of his true age.

     “Mr. Osborn, what--”

     “Oh please. How long have we known each other? It’s ‘ _Mr. Mayor_ ’.” He boomed out a laugh and slapped Peter’s back, almost knocking him over. “Just kidding, I’m kidding. It’s Norman.”

     He beamed a big, politician grin but Otto was anything but happy.

     “Norman, what do you think you’re doing?”

     Immediately, Norman’s face fell serious. “The grant agreement you signed has strict safety provisions. This isn’t your first violation.”

     “Those… those were excused,” Otto stammered out. His round face was turning pink behind his glasses.

     “By me. We should have confiscated this equipment long ago.”

     “But… I’ve had a breakthrough.” Otto gestured to the young vet still sitting at the table, watching the whole thing. Norman brushed past Otto, straightening his suit jacket with a tug, and reached out to shake hands with the man.

     “Thank you for your great service to our country. These folks will escort you to Oscorp Robotics where you’ll receive the latest in prosthetics, no charge.”

     Norman ushered the man with a hand on his back and out he followed the troop of city workers. Otto’s pink face was starting to turn red.

     “This isn’t about safety infractions, is it?” he asked.

     Norman’s face pulled into a look of sympathy, although it wasn’t very convincing.

     “I’m trying to help you, Otto. You’re free to continue your work… in a secure environment.”

     “At Oscorp,” Otto corrected.

     Norman smiled. “You always were the smartest guy in the room.”

     “You haven’t changed a bit.”

     “Neither have you.” Norman turned away from Otto and instead looked straight at Peter.

     “Hey Peter, Harry will be coming back home from Europe tomorrow afternoon. Maybe... the two of you could catch up and start that business you two were always talking about. This is opportunity knocking! And remember, there is always a place for you at Oscorp,” Norman beamed.

     With that, he spun on his heels and like a tornado, the whole crew was gone as soon as they came. Otto deflated like a balloon once it was just the two of them again and he nearly dropped into the chair next to him. Peter put his hands up to make sure the older man didn’t fall over but Otto just sighed a deep, defeated sound.

     “They didn’t take everything,” Peter tried. “Maybe we can start over and--”

     “Peter… there’s no ‘we’,” Otto interrupted. “Without the grant from the city, I can no longer pay you. I need some time to think. If I were you… I’d look for a new job.”

 

     ~*~

 

     To say that Peter dragged himself home would be a bit of an understatement. He barely blinked at anything as he took the subway through the throngs of people up to the Bronx. The commute sucked, but his whole body felt drained and he couldn’t bring himself to swing home. So instead, he bared through the monotone announcements of the stops, the pushing and shoving of busy people, and the chilly walk through the already dark streets towards his and Wade’s apartment.

     By the time he started to climb the rickety back stairs of the apartment, his hands holding his backpack straps were starting to numb out from the cold and he knew his face had to be turning pink from the wind.

     It was blissfully warm inside though. The living room lights were turned on, the TV playing some show in the background, but Wade was in the kitchen. He poked his head around a cabinet to see Peter trying to slip inside without letting too much heat out.

     “There you are! I just finished making popcorn and there’s a marathon of Nightmare on Elm Street movies tonight. Number one is a classic, the sequel sucked dicks if you ask me, but the third is where it’s fucking at.”

     Wade came around the corner wearing a gray, v-neck t-shirt and cozy, black sweatpants. In his hands was a huge plastic bowl with what had to be three bags worth of popcorn. The buttery scent was relaxing and wonderful but the smile Peter tried to put on his face must not have been convincing enough because Wade’s face fell as Peter kicked off his shoes and dumped his bag at the door.

     “What? You more of a Jason than a Freddy sort of guy?”

     “No, it’s just uh…” Peter sighed. He fiddled with his rolled-up sleeve at his elbow and laughed, but only to keep the crushing depression off his chest. “I guess I lost my job today.”

     “Oh Peter, holy shit, what happened? Come here.”

     Wade reached out and grabbed Peter’s hand, dragging him over to the small kitchen table where he put the ridiculous bowl of popcorn down and made Peter sit. Wade pulled up the other chair and sat right across from him, their knees touching, and held both of Peter’s hands in his big, scarred ones. Instantly, Peter’s eyes began to well up and even though a moment ago he hadn’t thought all these feelings were inside of him, they were certainly here now.

     “The lab got shut down,” he said pitifully. “City workers came in and just starting taking everything, all of our work... Norman Osborn pulled the whole grant and now Otto says I should look for another job.”

     “The _mayor,_ Norman Osborn?”

     “Yeah, and it’s my fault. If only I had been able to reinforce the power dampener or, or--”

     “Don’t do that to yourself, baby boy. Your boss was lucky to have you there,” Wade reassured, squeezing Peter’s hands. “Fuck Norman Osborn. You don’t need his money to do great things, Peter. Talk to your boss again tomorrow. Between the two of you, you’re bound to think up something.”

     Peter looked up at Wade to see him smiling softly at him. No one else believed in Peter like Wade did.

     “Thank you.” Peter pulled his hands from Wade’s but only so he could wrap his arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

     “Don’t stress about it tonight,” Wade whispered. He finally pulled back and grinned his trademark no-good-smile. “And I have the perfect thing to distract you! Johnny Depp getting blended into a human smoothie!”

     “Wade! Spoilers!”

 

     ~*~

 

     Peter could attest; the second Nightmare on Elm Street was lackluster. Maybe not dick sucking terrible like Wade said, but Peter felt his eyelids start to droop as he laid back against Wade on the couch. The pair were stretched out lengthwise on the old couch; Wade was propped with a heap of pillows against the armrest and Peter’s back pressed to his front, head resting on Wade’s chest. The movie flickered on the screen in the dark but after the first thirty minutes or so he got distracted by Wade’s hand resting across his chest and playing mindlessly with the line of his collarbone that peeked out under the collar of his button-up shirt.

     The rough pad of Wade’s thumb stroked over the thin skin. Up and down, left and right-- just teasing over the bone underneath without any specific destination. Peter’s skin tingled with the sensation and it made his heart pick up.

     Without a word, Peter shimmied on the couch and turned so that he could stretch up and press his lips against Wade’s. The warm feeling of Wade’s chapped lips against his and the heat soaking into him from the line of Wade’s body gave him the shivers. Wade’s arms came up to wrap around him in a tight hold as he deepened their kiss and Peter happily melted into it. Wade kissed him unhurried and thorough; taking every little sigh and moan he could get out of the smaller man and returning the enthusiasm back two-fold while they bathed in the flickering shadows of the television screen.

     “Take me to bed,” Peter begged in a soft voice. Wade hummed in agreement as he kissed him again and Peter could feel the rumble of it where their chests were pressed together. Wade clicked the TV off and threw the remote to the side.

     The pair untangled themselves from the couch and headed to the bedroom, but only got so far as the doorway before Wade was spinning Peter so he could press him up against the bedroom wall. He cupped the back of his skull to keep him from hitting his head on the plaster but Wade made sure to use his size to shove him completely to the wall. He slotted his leg between Peter’s and the smaller man moaned before Wade locked his lips back to Peter’s, taking his breath away.

     Peter was hungry for it. He had started off so sweet but now Wade could feel from there how Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest and the desperate energy that was spilling off of him. Wade just wanted to give him anything, everything-- whatever Peter wanted.

     He ducked down to latch his mouth to the side of Peter’s neck, teeth just teasing the skin, before he licked the mark soothingly. He loved the little sounds that Peter panted into his ear as he kissed his way down his neck to suck a tiny, pink spot to Peter’s shoulder under his collar.

     Peter’s hands clung to Wade’s back, his fingertips digging into Wade’s shoulder blades over the soft fabric of his t-shirt. His hips rutted against Wade’s thigh with itty-bitty wiggles that gave little jolts of delicious friction. Wade needed more of that ivory-pale skin visible for him to attack though, so he found Peter’s lips again and swallowed down his moan while his hands snuck between them to undo the blue-plaid button-up.

     With the gorgeous length of Peter’s torso finally free to touch, Wade ran his hands down Peter’s sides and down to his jean-clad hips to grip them. He rubbed his thumbs, dipping them under the waistband and over the hot, sensitive skin there. Peter gasped and bucked his hips against Wade’s, making both men groan as they rubbed against each other.

     Peter's hands scrambled down Wade's back and started pushing up the warm, cotton shirt to Wade's shoulders. He pulled back enough to get rid of it but made sure to keep Peter pinned from the waist down. He could feel the stiff outline of Peter's cock through both layers of pants.

     Wade snuck his hands back to knead Peter's ass and used his advantageous grasp to shuffle the smaller man back with him until his knees hit the edge of the mattress and the two fell into bed.

     He pulled Peter over him and he braced his hands near Wade’s head. His open shirt tickled Wade’s bare sides and the view of Peter’s toned chest and stomach was stare-worthy. He slid his hands up under the fabric and over the hot skin of Peter’s ribs and back where he could feel the strong muscles sculpted over years of swinging through the city.

     “I have an idea,” Wade whispered with a smile. He caught the way Peter was still staring at his lips as he spoke, so he couldn’t help but lean up and kiss him again for a second.

     “Oh yeah?” Peter whispered back against his lips, dipped down to stay close.

     “Yeah. I think you should top tonight.”

     “Wait, what?” Peter chuckled breathlessly. Wade watched the cute way Peter’s eyebrows knitted together as he pulled back just a bit.

     “Come on, baby boy. Is it so strange for a guy to want to please his man after he’s had a royally shit day like today?” Wade wiggled his non-existent eyebrows and Peter nervously laughed, shaking his head with a smile.

     “I… it’s just... I mean I do, I just wouldn’t really…know…I mean, uh.” Peter’s face turned bright red as he stammered.

     Wade lifted a hand up to cup the side of his face, fingers holding the back of his neck while his thumb stroked the rosy, flushed line of cheekbone.

     “Hey, you know, between the two of us I think we can probably figure it out.”

     Peter laughed even louder this time and Wade took the second he was distracted to pet his way down Peter’s body and find the button on his jeans to pop them open. Wade grabbed the fabric with his thumbs and pulled Peter even closer if that was possible. Peter hissed in a breath as their groins pressed together in delicious pressure.   

     “Let’s start by getting these off of you,” Wade growled as he helped work the jeans down off his hips.

     “Yeah… yeah, okay,” Peter breathed out. He stood up and it was just a moment before the denim was falling to the floor at the foot of the bed. He had a pair of navy-blue boxers on underneath and the elastic clung dangerously low on Peter’s hips, giving Wade a show of the obvious erection tenting the fabric.

     Peter shrugged off the plaid shirt from his shoulders, tossing it to the floor as well. He stood, suddenly self-conscious at the end of the bed, and Wade could practically hear the whirl of Peter overthinking.

     Wade started wiggling out of his sweatpants. “Come here and grab the lube for me, baby boy.”

     Peter's face and ears were pink as he crawled back up in bed. He reached over Wade into the nightstand and for a quick moment Wade thought about asking him to turn the light off. His heart beat weirdly in his ribs but Peter was already pulling back with the bottle, kneeling between Wade's spread thighs, looking lost.

     He glanced at Wade and he could see the timid look on Peter's face. Wade just took the bottle from his hand and dropped it next to himself on the sheets so he could pull Peter back down over him for a kiss. His hips nervously grazed against Wade's with little brushes and Wade reached down to push the boxers away as well. Peter let out a raspy breath as they pressed together finally skin to skin.

     Picking the bottle back up, Wade dripped a bit of lube into his palm and tossed it to the side. He watched how Peter's eyes tracked his hands the whole time. Without warning him, Wade reached down with his slick hand and wrapped his fingers around Peter's cock. His breath hissed in through his teeth as Wade stroked him with a tight fist and his hips bucked into the sensation.

     “ _Uhhn_ , Wade.”

     The muscles in his abs shook with the effort not to move. Wade only teased him long enough to get him completely wet and then used the last bit of lube in his palm to stroke his own erection.

     “Come on, Peter,” he whispered. He grabbed Peter’s hips and brought their groins together to feel the smooth slide of their cocks against each other's. “Fuck me now.”

     “Wait, wait,” Peter gasped, resisting Wade’s pulling hands. “I don't want to hurt you.”

     “It's fine, baby boy. I'll heal in a minute.”

     Peter just shook his head.

     “It's not fine to hurt you just because you'll heal.”

     Wade didn't know what to say to that.

     Peter had thoughts of his own though. His eyes ducked low and Wade watched how his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped.

     “I…I want to be the one to get you ready but…it's different than doing it to myself a-and...” Peter stammered. His eyes flickered back up to Wade's. “I want you to tell me if I'm hurting you.” He huffed a laugh out nervously. “Teach me?”

     How the fuck was he supposed to say no to that?

     “Okay, Spidey. I’ll let you know what feels good,” he promised.

     “Okay,” Peter smiled. He plucked the bottle of lube from the nest of sheets and Wade adored the way he bit at his bottom lip as he poured some of the liquid onto his fingers.

     Peter glanced down between Wade’s thighs that draped over his own. The comparison of the gnarled, ugly mess of Wade’s skin against Peter’s made his heart drop to his stomach but Peter didn’t hesitate to touch the man spread out before him. His dry hand petted softly up Wade’s corded thigh to the furrowed crease of huge muscles that cut a perfect v-shape over his hips. Peter had such a look of concentration on his face it would have been funny if Wade could remove his painfully exposed body from the equation.

     The tip of Peter’s finger touched him ever-so-carefully and Wade focused on keeping his breathing steady. His slender finger worked its way in, nice and slick and easy-like. His head was tilted down to watch his hand as he stretched Wade open but he kept glancing up to check Wade's face. So the older man just let the words tumble from his lips to direct him.

     “Perfect, _oh fuck,_ that's good. Keep going,” Wade praised.

     Two of Peter's fingertips nudged together and when he started to work them forward, he leaned down to lick with quick flicks of his tongue to Wade's nipple on his broad chest. The area around the bud was heavily scarred on one side but Peter came in from the other to avoid the over-sensitive flesh. His knuckles breached Wade's rim and at the same time he nibbled the pebbled bud between his teeth and the glorious feeling of it shot through Wade's body.

     Peter glanced up at him through half-lidded eyes and with fingers still completely sunk inside of him and working with steady thrusts as he licked his way across Wade's chest to the other hard nipple. Wade's cock twitched pleadingly off his hard stomach.

     “Please Peter, I swear I'm ready. Please…”

     Watching his face, Peter slipped his hand from inside Wade.

     “Okay,” he panted, as if to steady his own nerves. His cock was flushed and leaking as it hung between his legs.

     Peter used his hand to take hold of himself, chin tilting down to his chest as he tried to watch what he was doing. Wade felt Peter rub the tip of his cock against his hole, slick and blunt, and once he was properly lined up he pressed forward with his hips just enough for the tip of him to work inside.

     The pressure against the ring of muscles finally forced Wade to open up for him but Peter hardly moved despite how much Wade needed him to.

     “Yes, yes, yes. Keep going.”

     Wade reached for Peter's hips and grabbed him on each side so he could pull him forward. Peter's hand moved out of the way as he cursed under his breath and he slid inside Wade with the sudden pull.

     It had been a _long_ time since Wade had laid down for a man-- some guy he couldn't even remember the name of one night when he had a drink practically glued in his hand and a crushing desperation just to feel someone touch him because it was better than nothing.

     This though… this couldn't compare to anything else.

     “ _Uhhnn,_ oh fuck, wait. Wade, wait,” Peter panted. His right hand flew down to Wade's hip, forcing him absolutely still, as he kept himself propped up above him.

     “Are you okay, Peter?” Wade own voice came out thicker than he expected.

     Peter shook his head, his hair flopping down and a lock sticking to his forehead. His breathing was shallow.

     “I'm really close,” he choked out. His hips were pressed as tightly as possible against Wade's, _trying_ to hold back against the assault of sensations.

     Wade couldn't help the smile that tugged on his face.

     “Why hold back, we got all night, don't we? You could tie me up in your web and have your way with me all night if you wanted, my little spider.”

     That got a laugh out of Peter.

     “You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

     “Come on, baby boy, chase it,” Wade purred. Peter looked at him like he was a man drowning out at sea and Wade tilted his hips against Peter’s hold, trying to get him to move again.

     Reflexively, Peter moved his hips with Wade's and the air caught in Peter's throat as he slid out just enough before his hips bucked back in.

     “Oh God, oh God, _uuuhn,_ ” Peter panted. He finally began to move; hesitating, little thrusts as he got used to moving his hips without slipping back out. Any finesse he started to learn went out the window fast as the new feeling completely overtook him.

     It was all burning heat and glorious, slippery friction in such wonderful tightness. One particular push of his hips sent the head of his cock in deep and perfect against Wade’s prostate, shocking a moan out of him.

     Hearing Wade make such a sweet sound was the straw that broke the camel’s back and it only took a second longer until Peter gasped in a breath and froze, pressing as deep into Wade as he could as his body locked up tense.

     Peter's face pulled into a look of pure shock and awe, his eyes nearly crossing, as he spilled inside Wade. The sound that whimpered out of him as he came made Wade’s blood sear and his own cock throb in empathy.

     Peter curled in over Wade, his forehead falling on Wade’s chest, and he panted hot puffs of air against his skin. Wade wrapped his arms up around Peter’s back to stroke his spine as he came down. His hips kept twitching, barely moving inside, but even that teasing amount of stimulation was driving Wade crazy.

     Peter picked himself back up on shaky arms but instead of stopping, his hips started driving back into Wade with deeper pushes and Peter moaned long and low at the wet way he pushed through his own release.

     “Oh God, Wade. It feels so good,” he hissed.

     Wade grinned a feral smile. “I knew you’d warm up to it.”

     Peter just groaned and shakily tried to keep slow.

     “Come on, Peter. _Harder._ I’m not gonna break,” Wade begged.

     Peter began to kick up the pace, getting more and more confident as he got the hang of it. His hips rolled as he snapped them forward and,  _Jesus_ , Wade sometimes forgot how truly strong Peter really was. He slipped his arm under Wade’s right leg and lifted it until the bend of his knee rested over Peter’s shoulder; letting him bend down close enough to kiss the older man while still keeping a manageable angle to move at.

     Peter’s kiss was just as ravenous as his new pace and Wade touched any place he could from his position. Every muscle in Peter’s chest and stomach flexed as he fucked and it felt so good with every teasing, little brush of his cock against Wade’s prostate.

     He couldn’t take it anymore. The pleasure was pooling warmth in his core, spiking his blood, and he needed to touch himself finally. Peter shoved his hand out of the way though the second he did.

     “Fuck, Wade,” he panted. “Let me.”

     The motion of his hand pumping Wade’s cock was instantly blissful, even if the timing wasn’t completely in sync with the motion of his hips. It was still so amazing and Wade felt trapped in the exquisite duality of both sensation as Peter kept moving. He was leaking badly and what Peter didn’t catch with the pad of his thumb as he stroked him, dripped down onto the textured plane of his stomach.

     On top of everything, Peter looked downright sinful. A high blush stained his cheekbones, flushed and glowing, and his brown eyes were nearly black as he hungrily raked in the sight of Wade underneath him-- of how Wade’s body stretched just enough around his cock to let him inside.

     The coil in Wade’s stomach tightened further and the staggering pleasure grew and stole his lung-power. Before he could warn Peter how close he was, the smaller man re-adjusted the angle of his pounding hips and nailed Wade’s sweet-spot once, twice, three times in a row. It was over for Wade just like that.

     His cock flexed and throbbed in the slide of Peter’s fist as he came. Peter’s thrusts faltered and he gasped a shocked breath as the crazy-tight contractions of Wade’s muscles spasming pushed him clear over the edge with him.  

     Orgasm now over, Wade was sore. And a mess. And Peter was definitely a mess too as he fell on top of Wade with a huff and plastered their chests together.

     He decided he would help Peter get up and in the shower with him in a minute. It was too nice laying there with the scent of Peter’s sweaty, soap-sweet hair as he kissed the crown of his head. Peter just groaned out an exhausted sound into Wade’s chest, making him laugh and jostle Peter on top of him.

     Yeah, Peter was gonna need a hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, this was my first time writing a virgin top smut scene, please be gentle with me, lol >//<;;


	4. An Unexpected Guest

     The next day, Peter took Wade’s advice and headed out at dusk like he usually did to go speak with Doctor Octavius. Otto was a bit of a night owl and Peter had to admit that he was lucky that he was already used to the late hours. Sometimes, he would find the man the next night, still working as if he hadn’t left at all during the day. He was dedicated to his work, that much was for certain.

     “Hey Doc,” Peter called out as he slipped in through the maintenance hall door. Otto was standing across the lab and turned to wave at him with a cheery smile.

     “Hello Peter! Over here!”

     He stepped further inside but couldn’t help but freeze as he looked around.

     “Wow. Look at all this new stuff,” Peter gasped. There were stacks of cardboard boxes scattered around the open space. They had shipping labels from all sorts of lab equipment depots and part engineering manufactures and Peter couldn’t even tell what could be in half of them.

     “Where did you get all this equipment?”

     Otto didn’t look up from the table he was hunched over. Nearby still were the dismantled, thick cables that had sparked during the test run, but thankfully the older man wasn’t connected to them today. They just hung there, lifeless and waiting for their next chance.

     “Called in every last favor. Took out some loans… It’s like we’re starting over once again. But this time’s going to be different!”

     “You’ve been busy…”

     “Just getting started! You know… until now, we’ve been looking at prosthetics from the wrong perspective. Why restore people to what they were… when we can make them _better_? And Parker, I appreciate you doing damage control the other night after the uh, little power surge, but just wait until you see it now.”

     Peter closed the last bit of distance and saw that Otto was working on their advanced prototype-- Doctor Octavius's most precious brain-child.

     “Okay, I think that should do it,” Otto sighed. He stepped back from the metal prosthetic arm bolted to the table. It looked different from the last time Peter had seen it; more sleek, curved edges on the external plating and Peter could see glimpses of corded wires peeking out between plate joints like steel muscles. Otto picked up the manual controller for the arm and smiled at Peter. “Ready?”

     Otto flipped the power switch on the controller and began to manipulate the arm. The gears whirled to life and the arm rose, slinking up with fluid flexibility before the fingers began to stretch, then clench in a fist, and back out again. The arm lifted high into the air with a graceful, swooping gesture before beginning to lower towards a ceramic mug on the table beside it. Before the fingers could reach the rim of it however, the arm froze, twitching in place as it struggled to do as it was told. Otto grunted out. The controller shook in his hands and Peter watched as his face pulled into a grimace.

     “Everything okay?”

     Otto didn’t answer him. He was laser-focused on the arm. It jerkily picked up the mug but immediately dropped it and the cup hit the floor in a burst of ceramic shards.

     “DAMMIT!” Otto screamed. “This is all your fault, Norman, you son of a--!” He raised the controller over his head and threw it to the ground. The metal box smashed and Peter flinched out of the way.

     Otto stood there fuming and panting out ragged breaths.

     “Well... I know who you’re not voting for in the next election…” Peter said with a nervous chuckle. Otto whipped his head back at him, blinking in shock.

     “Sorry!” Peter back-peddled. “I have a habit of making bad jokes in, uh, tense situations.”

     Otto just dropped his head and laughed a weary sound.

     “It was a good joke, Parker... Just a bit of an overreaction on my part.”

     “No, don’t worry. Why don’t you take a break?” Peter suggested. Otto looked pale and clammy and it worried him immensely. “I’ll... I’ll clean this up and get us ready for another test.”

     Otto looked down at the smashed controller like he barely recognized it. He nodded his head without a word and sat himself down in the chair nearby. His breathing was shaky and Peter kept his eye on him as he started to pick up the broken shards of mug.

     “So um… I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… it seems you and Norman have a bit of a history.”

     Otto nodded solemnly.

     “We were lab partners in college. Became friends,” he chuckled. “We decided to start a business. We both had visions of changing the world-- just in different ways.”

     “Wait… you were at Oscorp when it started?

     “I’m half the reason it’s called Oscorp. In grad school, everyone called us the “O’s”. Add corp to that and well…” Otto sighed as he re-adjusted himself in the seat. “It is a catchy name.”

     “Well, why’d you leave?” Peter stood and dumped the pieces in the trash bucket. The controller on the ground was beat up, but most of the damage looked to be superficial as he picked it up to inspect it.

     “Norman became more and more obsessed with genetics. He started a project I considered unethical. And there was this… anyways, lawyers got involved. I chose to leave in exchange for a settlement. But that money didn’t last very long. I’ve relied on grants ever since. If this project doesn’t work…” Otto dropped his head into his hands.

     “Don’t worry,” Peter said. “It’ll work. Let me just fix this up.”  He was certain he could get it to work again.

     “Okay, Parker. Let me make some coffee for us then.”

     Otto picked himself up with a groan and off he shuffled to the small nook in the corner of the lab that served as their makeshift kitchenette.

     Peter went to work but his heart was heavy. Otto’s whole life's work depended on them making his vision a reality. If only Peter could help him through this hiccup, he knew they could truly make the world a little bit of a better place. And wasn't that all Peter had ever really wanted to do? Even when he put on his very first Spiderman suit?

     Otto was just under a lot of stress right now. He could understand that.

     Peter finished the diagnostic test, and although the face plate was dented and needed replacement, it was perfectly fine.

     Otto came back with two new mugs in his hands. He placed one of the steaming cups down on the work table and Peter tried to hand him back the controller.

     “Oh, why don’t you do the honors this time?” Otto smiled.

     Peter smiled back despite his nerves. Otto's machinery was flawless though. This time, the arm reached for the mug and the metal fingertips clinked around the edge as it clutched with the perfect amount of pressure. It hoisted the mug into the air and held it in place without a single tremor.

     “I think we did it,” he sighed.

     “Next step, neural interface,” Otto agreed.

     “That’s a lot of work for you to do by yourself. Sure you can handle it?” Peter asked with a serious look. Otto let out a deep sigh.

     “Apparently not, judging by today’s debacle."

     “Because I haven’t found another job--”

     “My funds are still…” Otto tried to interrupt, but Peter didn’t let him.

     “I know. It’s okay, don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. What’s a few bucks when you’re trying to change the world, right?

     A huge smile broke out on Otto’s face. He looked down at the other mug in his hand and raised it up. “To changing the world.”

     Peter made the robotic arm clink it’s cup with Otto’s and the older man chuckled a deep laugh.

     “I think…” Otto sighed. “I think that maybe if I catch some shut-eye I'll be refreshed and ready to press on.”

     “I agree,” Peter nodded. “Why don't you go home for a couple of hours? I'll finish up a few things around here and lock up when I'm done.”

     “Thanks, Parker. It’s nice having another positive force in this lab.” Otto smiled but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes all the way. Peter could see the bags under his eyes starting to form and he wondered when the last time was that this man actually slept eight hours.

     “Oh, and do watch out for those cables still, Peter. I never got around to them but I’ll unbolt them in the morning.”

     “Yeah, no problem.” Peter eyed the cables nervously, but they just dangled there, nonthreatening and innocent-looking.

     Otto picked his jacket up off the hook near the entrance and shrugged it on as he shuffled out. The metal doors swung close and Peter stood there for a moment in the new silence.

     He walked over to the work table as he turned the controller over a couple of times in his hands. Maybe he’d be able to get the dents out of the face plate without having to cut a new one. In the center of the work table though was one of Otto’s voice recorders. He loved leaving notes or ideas that popped into his head as he worked for Peter to listen to later. He said it helped him keep all his teeming thoughts in order.

     Sitting down, Peter pressed the play button and the tinny sound of Doc's voice broke the quiet.

_"Parker, we’ve been focused on limb replacement-- connecting nerves at severed extremities, replicating the function of lost appendages. But what if instead… we gave people something they’ve never seen? Something… straight from the mind! Unchain ALL of us from the bodies we’ve been born with, and instead unleash the awesome power of our minds.”_

     The recording ended but Peter hit the button again. Otto sounded exuberant--optimistic-- but something about it unsettled Peter. Something they’ve never seen?

     The lab door swung open with a low creak. Peter’s head whipped up and he almost fell over in his chair when he realized who it was.

     “Hey, Pete,” Harry Osborn smiled.

 

     ~*~

 

     Wade grabbed his old, beat-up laptop off his desk and strolled into the living room so he could plop down on the couch. He fired it up and his leg bounced up and down as he tried to be patient. Peter was out at the lab so Wade knew he had some time left and he planned on using it.

     To snoop, naturally.

     [[We usually only use this thing to jerk-off.]]

     {{Should we try that weird Russian site we found last time or just use ole reliable Tumblr again?}}

     “Not tonight, boys. We’ve got some work to do.”

     He opened Google and typed in the name that Cap had given him: Shirley Woodrow.

     A number of New York City-dot-gov kind of websites popped up along with a mess of news websites. Wade clicked on the Daily Bugle’s link and a page loaded with an article from six months ago. It was about the new community farm that opened up in Central Park. Wade scrolled down and the article started out immediately singing the praises of Oscorp for its wonderful strides in charity work… blah blah blah.

     Wade kept scrolling and there was a photo from the opening day. Norman Osborn himself stood there in a fancy suit. He had a huge, shit-eating grin on his face and a ridiculously large pair of scissors in his hands as he stood posed for the camera, about to cut the ribbon strung up in front of the gardens.

     Wade almost keep going but his eyes caught the small-print caption under the photo. Sure as shit, there was Shirley Woodrow’s name and Wade’s eyes flicked back up. To Osborn’s right stood a mousy looking woman, standing rigidly straight like she had a pole rammed up her ass but still trying to smile for the cameras.

     He backed out of the page and clicked the next one. Another press release, this time for a new children’s wing at Bellevue Hospital Center. There was a photo of Norman Osborn again, this time shaking the hand of the Chief of Staff. Glued to his side was Shirley Woodrow.

     [[She's close to him,]] White whispered.

     {{I smell something fishy.}}

     The boxes did love a conspiracy. Wade could agree though; Norman Osborn rubbed him the wrong way for sure.

     The was a loud knocking at Wade's door. He jumped in his seat and cursed at himself under his breath as he closed his laptop and threw it aside. He didn’t bother putting his mask back on. Hopefully he'd scare away whatever asshole was trying to sell something with his freakish face.

     Wade opened the door and standing in front of him, a huge smile on his face, was Peter’s friend Ned.

     “Hey Wade! It’s me, Ned.”

     “Yeah, man. How are you, what’s up?” Wade shifted uncomfortably in the door frame. He wasn’t quite used to people seeing him without his mask still, but Ned didn’t even blink an eye.

     “I was just wondering if Peter’s here,” Ned said with a happy head bop.

     “Oh. Uh, no, he’s not. He’s still at work actually.”

     “Ah, I see,” Ned said. He strolled past Wade and the older man stood in the doorway in shock for a second before he shrugged and closed the door.

     “I just wanted to say that we should all go out and see Harry now that he’s back in town.”

     Ned sat himself down with a bounce on the couch.

     “Uh, forgive me, but who’s Harry again? He sounds vaguely familiar,” Wade asked, standing there watching Ned glance around the apartment with a sense of amazement.

     “Oh! Harry was Peter’s _best_ friend up until high school. His dad pulled him from school-- he was always super strict-- and put him in some elite, private boarding school in Europe.”

     “Yeah, that’s right. And uh, what was Harry like?” Wade pried.

     {{Should we be getting nervous?}} Yellow peeped.

     [[Let’s hear the man out,]] White reasoned.

     “He’s a super-great dude,” Ned nodded. “Really, really friendly. Like, he had to be the most popular kid in school. Everyone loved him, especially the girls,” Ned chuckled. “I’ve seen some of his Instagram photos, like with _real_ supermodels and everything, and I think he’s even been in some French fashion magazines or something. Whoa! Is this real?!” he exclaimed as he reached for a shuriken on the coffee table.

     “Oh shit! Yeah, yeah!” Wade carefully took the razor-sharp blade from Ned’s hand and tossed it in the end table drawer.

     “Daaaamn! That’s so cool!”

     “Ned? Um… does this _Harry_ have a last name?”

     {{Oh, we are going to Google THE SHIT out of him later!}}

     [[A French fashion model, really?]]

     “Yeah,” Ned smiled. “It’s Osborn.”

     Wade’s heart froze in his chest, turning his blood to ice.

     “You don't mean, like… Norman Osborn?”

     “Yeah! He's Harry's dad!”

     And just like that, the boxes began frantically arguing:

     {{Peter can’t know about what that skeeve, Norman Osborn, is up to.}}

     [[He's gonna ask and we should have told him about Weapon X long ago.]]

     {{If he knew, he'd be disgusted to hear about all those people we killed.}}

     [[He wouldn't leave of he knew the whole story--]]

     {{He'd be a fool not too!}}

     Wade couldn't take it anymore. His head was going to split in two.

     “Ned? It was really great to see you again but I just remembered that I have to be somewhere and it's _crazy_ important.”

     Ned stood up with a friendly smile.

     “Yeah, no problem! I'll just send Peter a text. You're gonna love Harry, he's really cool.”

     “I'm sure,” Wade said as convincingly as possible. He saw Ned out through the door and down the back steps. The second he was on the sidewalk, turning around the corner, Wade closed the door and rushed to get his shoes and jacket.

     Whatever he had to tell Peter he would. Wade couldn't let him get close to the Osborns, not if what he suspected was true.


	5. Harry Osborn

     “Hey, Pete,” Harry smiled. He stood there across the lab and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. He was dressed in a deep navy-blue suit with a silver-gray button up underneath. Despite the expensive cut of the suit, he was tie-less and looked very casual with the top button of his shirt undone.

     Peter numbly placed the controller back down on the table top. He realized his mouth was hanging open and he quickly shut it.

     “Oh my god. Harry!” Peter gasped. “What are you doing here?”

     “My dad told me you worked here,” Harry explained, walking over. “I thought I’d find you here.”

     “Yeah, well, I used to. I guess it’s more like volunteering now,” he shrugged. He stood up from the table and Harry pulled him into a strong hug. He was taller than Peter now and he hugged with a fierceness that came with that Osborn size. The spicy scent of his cologne dripped with notes of cedar and leather and it had to be some expensive, designer brand.

     Harry pulled back but gripped Peter’s arms so he could hold him close and look him over.

     “Wow, look at you. It’s been _so_ long. You look great! What gym are you going to?”

     “Oh, uh, no I don’t…” Peter blushed.

     “Wow. You’ll have to give me your home routine. Just wow.”

     “Um, th-thanks,” he stammered. “But really, look who’s talking. Was Ned honestly not bullshiting when he said you actually modeled for a magazine?”

     Harry let out a huge laugh, his eyes crinkling as he grinned, and he let Peter’s arms slip from his hands. “Okay, it’s true, but it was only once _and_ they only called me at the last minute because the other guy got chicken pox.”

     “Even so, that’s great.” Peter leaned back against the work table and watched as Harry took in the lab around him. Peter wondered if his dad had told him about what happened yesterday or if Norman had left that part out. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised either way. “So, you’re back from Europe?”

     “Yeah, just got back a couple hours ago. I was itching to get off that plane.”

     Harry strolled around as he talked, glancing at bits of machinery or Otto’s diagrams on the whiteboards. Peter thought to himself that despite Harry’s build and light hair, which were just like his father's, he had his mom’s good looks--especially now that he was older. Harry’s mom had been one of the nicest ladies Peter had ever known as a kid. He knew how much Harry missed her.

     “School was fine. Marseilles was beautiful of course, but I have to admit... I missed the grittiness of New York.”

     Peter laughed. “Gritty is a nice way to put it.”

     “Touché.”

     Harry turned to Peter but kept drifting back. Directly behind him hung the heavy cables like pythons waiting to strike.

     “Wait, watch out!” Peter called out. He leapt up and closed the distance in a heartbeat.

     Peter spun Harry out of the way but the cable closest bumped into him instead. Suddenly the side of his neck flared up in pain and he jumped away from the live wire. His hand flew up to his neck but the shock was already over and the pain faded into a hot sensation.

     “Oh my god, are you okay, Peter? I’m _so_ sorry.” Harry grabbed Peter’s shoulders, pulling Peter’s hand away with his own to look at his neck.

     “It’s okay, I’m fine. I swear,” Peter reassured. “As long as you weren’t hurt.”

     “Well, there’s a burn mark here. Do you have a first aid kit?”

     “Yeah, I think on top of the mini-fridge in the corner…”

     “Sit, sit,” Harry said with a gentle push. Peter sat down on the stool at the work table and watched as Harry walked off towards the kitchenette.

     Peter timidly touched the side of his neck again but the skin hissed in protest as he grazed the little spot. Thank god it had just been a tiny shock.

     Harry came back across the room and he snagged one of the rolling chairs from a desk to pull over to Peter. He sat down across from him, first aid kit in his lap, and opened it to start rifling inside.

     “It’s okay, Harry. You really don’t have to.”

     “No, I insist,” Harry said. He picked up the tube of burn cream from the kit and already started unscrewing it. “It’s the least I can do after you so heroically saved my life.”

     Peter chuckled. “Very dramatic. It was more like, saved you from mild discomfort.”

     “Even so,” he smiled. “Hold still. It might not be a bad burn but you don’t want it to blister.”

     Harry slid his knee between Peter’s so he could lean in close. Peter held his breath as Harry used one hand to tilt Peter’s chin to the side to give him better access to his neck. His fingers touched the sensitive, pink spot but the cream felt nice on the hot skin. Harry’s mom used to patch up their scrapes and cuts when they played as kids and Peter smiled at the thought that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

     “Let me know if I’m hurting you,” Harry whispered.

     “Y-You’re not,” Peter rushed out. Harry’s fingers ghosted over his neck with light, little touches and Peter squirmed under the attention. He wished Harry had just let him run off to the bathroom or something but it was only a moment before the other man was done.

     “There…” Harry pulled back with a sigh of relief. “I think you’ll live, Mister Parker.”

     “Thanks,” he laughed. “You’ll certainly go down in medical history for your fine work, Mister Osborn.”

     Harry snorted just like he used to when he was little and then covered his mouth. Peter tried not to laugh but it didn’t work and the two of them burst into peals of laughter.

     Finally they both caught their breaths and Harry closed up the first aid kit to toss it onto the table top. He looked at Peter and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

     “It’s late. You must be hungry. We should go grab a bite to eat and, you know, catch up,” Harry grinned. It was a picture-perfect smile that could easily fit right at home on the cover of a magazine. Peter shifted in his seat.

     “Oh, uh yeah, sure I mean. I don’t see why not,” he stammered. “Let me just send a text real quick and--”

     There was a loud rapping at the door. It strangely came from down the hall at the rooftop exit and Peter stood up, motioning for Harry to hold on.

     “I’ll be right back. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

     Harry looked curious but sat back down in the rolling chair. Peter left him sitting there and slipped out into the maintenance hallway. He opened the outside door and sighed in relief.

     “Oh, it’s just you,” Peter said, stepping inside to let Wade walk in from the chilly air. He was dressed in a thick, black sweatshirt and dark jeans tucked into his black work boots. His classic, trying-to-hide-in-plain-sight look. Wade’s hood was up, his hands shoved deep to the sweatshirt’s pockets, and Peter wondered if his mask was tucked away somewhere.

     “Hey, yeah. Sorry I didn’t call or anything. I just wanted to talk,” Wade breathed.

     “It’s alright. About what?”

     “I heard that your friend Harry Osborn was back in town.”

     Peter blinked at him for a second in surprise before nodding.

     “Yeah... I was just about to text you about that--”

     “You should stay away from the Osborns. Especially Norman.”

     “What?” Peter chuckled in surprise. “Where is this coming from?”

     “Trust me, he’s bad news and you should stay clear.”

     Peter didn’t seem to be having it though.

     “He’s my friend’s dad, and people said the same thing to me about you, you know.”

     {{Oooo, ouch,}} Yellow hissed.

     [[He got you there,]] White agreed.

     Peter’s face softened after the words came out of his mouth though.

     “And besides, you think I really want to work for him after he ruined my boss and had the nerve to offer me a job right in front of him?”

     “He offered you a job?! What the fuck?” Wade exclaimed a little too loudly, his voice echoing in the small hallway. What the hell did Norman want with Peter?

     Peter’s face knitted into a look of hurt confusion.

     “I didn’t even take it!” he shouted back, trying to explain. “What do you have against Norman Osborn?”

     The metal door to the lab burst open and both Wade and Peter jumped at the sound.

     “What’s going on here, Peter?” Harry asked. Wade’s eyes almost popped out of his head when took in the sight of him.

     [[That’s Harry Osborn!]]

     {{He looks even more handsome in person than in his Instagram photos…}}

     [[Oh my god, are those Tom Ford loafers he’s wearing?]]

     {{Oh no! He’s rich too?! Aw, fuck.}}

     Harry stepped up and wrapped his arm around Peter’s back, his hand landing on Peter’s shoulder and _squeezing,_ and Wade’s whole world seemed to focus in on that singular point where they touched.

     “Do I need to call security?” Harry said in a stern voice.

     “Oh, I’d love to see you try,” Wade growled. He clenched his fists by his side.

     “Who are you?” Harry asked, his voice rising. “This is private property.”

     “Wait, wait, this is all just a misunderstanding,” Peter interrupted. He took a step forward between the two of them and Harry’s hand seemed to reluctantly fall from his shoulder. “Harry… this is Wade, my boyfriend.”

     “You can’t be serious,” Harry chuckled.

     {{Let us at him!}}

     [[Let us at him!]]

     Peter looked offended. “Actually, I am.” He shook off the look and stepped even closer to Wade, having to tilt his face up toward the older man’s.

     “Wade, this is Harry, an old friend who I haven’t seen in a very long time and just got back to the city. I was just about to text you and tell you...Harry and I are going out to grab something to eat and catch up.”

     The boxes were fuming; paranoid and raging with testosterone. Wade… just looked at Peter. That soft, searching look was on his face.

     “See you at home, Red?” Peter asked softly.

     Osborn was a threat. But Peter could be trusted. Simple as that.

     “Yeah, okay,” Wade grunted out. “I’ll see you later.”

     He spun around and shoved his way back out the rooftop exit. Peter stood there in the rush of cool, night air before the door slammed shut and Harry stepped forward next to him.

     “Let’s get out of here,” he said with a smirk. “Go grab your stuff and let’s hit the town.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *long angsty fangirl sigh*  
> I miss James Franco...  
> There, I said it.


	6. Dinner Out

     [[You saw that mark on Peter’s neck, right?]] White needled.

     {{Looked like a hickey to me,}} Yellow supplied.

_Shut up._

     {{We should have knocked that handsome jerk on his ass.}}

     [[Yeah, because Peter would have _loved_ that.]]

     {{We didn’t get a chance to explain!}}

     Wade opened the passenger door of Dopinder’s cab and slid inside with a huff. He briefly considered leaning his head back out and slamming the door shut on it a couple of times. Maybe that would get the boxes to shut their goddamn mouths.

     “How did it go, DP?” Dopinder smiled. It dropped off his face though when he took in Wade’s sour look. “Not good?”

     The taxi sat down the block, idling in the empty street. From there, the men had a straight view of the laboratory's main entrance.

     “That Osborn kid was already there. They’re _going out_ somewhere to eat,” Wade grunted.

     “Out where?”

     “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. Turn your lights off.”

     Dopinder turned the keys in the ignition and the two of them sat in silence waiting.

     From around the corner, headlights flooded onto the street and Wade and Dopinder watched as a stretch limo inched down the block. It rolled up to the sidewalk in front of the lab and the brake lights flared red as it was put in park.

     Right on cue, Peter and Harry came out the front doors and Peter turned to lock up behind them. They strolled down the steps and the limo driver opened his door to step out but Harry tossed him a wave and he climbed back into the driver’s seat. Harry leaned over and opened the back door, gesturing a hand for Peter. Wade scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest.

     “Oh wow, is that Mister Harry?”

     “Yeah,” Wade sighed.

     “He is a very attractive man,” Dopinder nodded.

     “Yeah…”

     “It’s as if... Tom Hiddleston and James Franco made sweet, romantic love and he’s the result.”

     Both boxes groaned in despair.

     “Okay, okay, I get it.”

     Dopinder glanced over and did a double take at the scowl now making itself at home on Wade’s face.

     “I mean! But he’s still not as handsome as you, DP.”

     “Oh, just cram it where the sun don’t shine.”

     The brake lights on the limo sparked the block in red before the car pulled out into the street.

     “Come on, let’s go,” Wade said. Dopinder turned the engine back on and they crept down the street after the limo. The car turned north on 8th Avenue and the taxi followed four cars behind. Thankfully, it was hard to lose a stretch limousine in New York traffic.

     Wade’s stomach felt as though he had spent all day swallowing stones. He fiddled with the seam of his jeans at his knee but it was impossible to ignore the onslaught of thoughts racing through his head. He had been hoping to explain himself a little but like always he fucked it up. Wade Wilson was famous for fucking shit up.

     The limo finally came to a stop along Central Park West. The street skirted the edge of the park and huge oak trees lined the sidewalk. The gothic, old-timey street lamps were glowing and couples holding hands and dog-walkers alike strolled the beautiful stretch of greens and yellows and reds. Dopinder slid into an empty space across the street and they watched with bated breath.

     The limo door popped open and Harry stood on the sidewalk to wait for Peter. He had the audacity to place a hand in the middle of Peter’s back and lead them towards the golden, mirrored skyscraper.

     “Holy moly,” Dopinder gasped. “They're going to Jean-Georges!”

     “Huh?”

     “It’s a five-star French restaurant. They absolutely raved about it in both _Grub Street_ and _Edible Manhattan_. Even the Daily Bugle ran a week-long exposé on their head chef. So glamorous,” he sighed.

     Wade watched as a doorman pulled the giant, gold handle on the entrance for the pair. Peter slipped inside with Harry and their shapes faded into crystal blurs through the beveled glass panels. Dopinder flicked the engine off and turned to Wade with beaming excitement.

     “Ooo, are we going to get disguises and sneak in? You could play a prominent business mogul from Mumbai and I, your young apprentice with a hunger to climb to the top. We’ll have to bribe the maitre d’ to get a good table but if we play our cards right--”

     “No,” Wade sighed. “Let’s just go find the nearest liquor store. I just want some bottom-shelf, hundred-proof tequila and some enchiladas from the cart on 55th and Park.”

     “Are you sure?” Dopinder deflated.

     “Yeah man, let’s just go.”

 

     ~*~

 

     Harry walked them inside the tower and Peter followed a step behind as he stared up at the huge, barrel-vaulted ceiling glimmering in gold. They stepped inside the elevator and a gilded set of doors closed them in. There were buttons running up the side panel, numbered all the way to sixty, but Harry pushed the round button labeled ‘35’ and the elevator raced upward. The delicate sound of classical music drifted from the elevator speakers.

     When the doors opened, a stunning foyer waited for them. A huge chandelier dripping in crystals and rubies hung in the room, casting a warm glow on the dark panels of wood on the walls. A red-painted arch lead to a podium where a man in a full tuxedo stood waiting for them. He sort of reminded Peter of a penguin.

     “Ah, _Monsieur_ _Osborn_ , we were looking forward to your arrival,” the maitre d’ said. “We saved you your favorite booth, just as requested.”

     “Thank you so much.”

     “Of course, please, follow me.”

     The penguin-dressed man grabbed two sleek menus from his stand and whisked them through the dining room. Sprinkled around the extravagant space were men in tailcoats dining with women in pearls. This place was completely out of his league.

     “There’s no way I fit the dress code here, Harry,” Peter whispered. He was just in his favorite pair of blue jeans, a black t-shirt and his ratty sneakers. He didn’t have a suit jacket or a tie like everyone else, just a too-big hoodie that he had stolen from Wade.

     “Don’t worry about that,” Harry chuckled. “My dad owns this restaurant. You could be in some crazy spandex outfit like one of those ridiculous _superheroes_ and they wouldn’t bother you as long as you’re with me.”

     Peter tried to laugh along but it sounded fake in his ears.

     The penguin man came to a stop at one of the back booths. It was tucked away in the farthest corner, quiet and secluded, and sported a breathtaking view of the cut of Central Park through the Manhattan jungle. Harry gestured for Peter to go first and he slipped into the scarlet upholstered, round booth. The back of the booth was tall and blocked out the rest of the space around them.

     “Your waiter will be Jules tonight, _Monsieurs_. He’ll be here promptly.”

     Off the man swept himself and Peter tried to return the smile that Harry gave him. He looked down at the menu. It was entirely in French. And there weren’t any prices listed. That could only mean that if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. It was only a second until the waiter slipped over like a well-oiled cog in the machine.

     “ _Bonsoir, monsieurs_. And especially to you _Monsieur Osborn_. It’s been a long time and we’re delighted to have you and your friend dining with us this evening.”

     “Thank you, Jules,” Harry said with a polite nod. “It is great to be back, and especially with such wonderful company.”

     Jules smiled at Peter but it looked forced. Maybe Peter was just being paranoid.

     “Can I start you sirs off with something to drink this evening?”

     “How about we celebrate with the 2007 Louis Roederer _Cristal_ champagne, and just bring the whole bottle please,” Harry rattled off.

     “Excellent choice, you will adore that vintage. And do you need a minute to look over the menu?”

     Harry glanced over at Peter but his head swam just trying to understand the words on the menu.

     “Do you mind if I…” Harry began and Peter sighed in relief.

     “No, please.”

     “Okay then. We’ll start with the _foie gras de canard amuse-bouche_ , followed by the _turbot des côtes normandes salsifis au naturel_ for myself and the _filet de boeuf Charolais rôti_ for Peter, if you would.”

     “Wonderful,” Jules smiled. “I will put that in for you right away.” Off he went, leaving the two men alone.

     “So, what do you think?” Harry asked.

     “When you said go grab a bite to eat, I didn’t quite expect this,” Peter said. He realized he was fiddling with the cloth napkin in his lap and he made himself be still.

     “Yes, well… the _chef du cuisine_ here is an absolute genius You’re going to love it. Plus, I figured you might think it fun to try something new,” Harry smirked.

     “You only live once, right? I guess I’m game for anything once.”

     Peter looked down at the table setting. Rows of polished silver gleamed on the ivory tablecloth. What could anyone possibly need _four_ different forks for? Especially that tiny one at the end. He prayed that he wouldn’t make a HUGE joke of himself.

     The waiter came over with a bucket of ice with a wine bottle perched upside down inside. He made a flourish as the pulled the bottle out, plucking a white hand-towel from his belt and using the cloth to pop the cork with his hand. Wispy vapor poured from the neck of the bottle and he flipped two champagne flutes off the table and filled them with a practiced formality.

     He left the bottle in the bucket of ice and bowed before disappearing again.

     Harry lifted his glass and smiled at Peter. They clinked glasses and Peter sipped a tiny bit of the bubbly liquid. It was so bitter and fizzy but had a sweet aftertaste and Peter kind of liked it.

     “I hope… I hope I didn’t offend you earlier. You know, at the laboratory,” Harry tried. He seemed embarrassed and Peter didn’t know what to say. “I was just worried about you, that’s all.”

     “It’s alright. I mean, I get it. But Wade is a really great guy. You don’t have to worry about him.”

     Harry hummed in response. He picked up his glass again and pulled back a long sip. “How long have you two been together?” he asked.

     “Oh, almost six months now.”

     “And where did you two meet?” Harry pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and coughed into the fabric.

     “Um… at an internship I had at Stark Industries…”

     “Oh? Stark Industries?”

     “Yeah, but I just started two months ago with Octavius Industries. We’re working to improve bio-engineering possibilities when it comes to prosthetics.”

     “Thanks so amazing, Peter. I remember we used to sit there and think our dreamy thoughts about starting our own company. One that would change the future-- save the planet,” he laughed. “We had big plans you and I, didn’t we?”

     Harry pulled out his handkerchief again and coughed into it with a raspy breath. Peter’s eyebrows knitted together in concern.

     “Are you okay?”

     “Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry reassured. He tucked the cloth away again and sipped from his drink. “It’s just allergies. I guess I’m not used to the air around here anymore.”

     “You mean the smog?” Peter retorted. Harry laughed a deep sound.

     “Exactly. I’ll be fine.”

     The waiter arrived with a huge platter balanced on his arm. He lifted a plate covered with a silver-plated cloche down onto the table and unveiled the dish beneath. A loaf of what looked like, but surely couldn’t be, cat food laid beautiful framed by a rim of sanguine-red sauce and sprinkled in a dusting of exotic spices. The rim of the plate sported an array of toast points and it looked incredibly expensive even if the mysterious loaf of meat was worrisome.

     “You ready to live a little on the dangerous side, Parker?” Harry teased, making Peter laugh.

     “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

 

     ~*~

 

     Completely stuffed and mind blown by the wonders of the elite cuisine of the world, Peter and Harry managed to drag themselves down to the ground level where the limo was waiting for them out in the cold night. The driver stood there waiting for them on the sidewalk smirking and held the back door open for them to crawl inside.

     The two of them embraced the warmth from the inside of the limo and they talked easily as they crawled northward up through traffic into the Bronx.

     The limousine turned the corner onto his and Wade’s street and rolled to a stop. A couple of workers from the nearby shoe factory were walking home. They passed a bottle wrapped in a brown-paper bag back and forth, taking long swigs, and Harry watched them swagger past the tinted windows with a look of pity. Peter had actually talked with these men a couple of times, and even if they liked to party a little early after their shifts on Friday night, they were pretty decent guys. Just trying to make a living in this chaotic city like everyone else. Peter was certain Harry was going to say something about where Peter lived but he surprised him.

     “I had such a good time catching up with you again.”

     “Yeah, I did too,” Peter smiled.

     “You know,” Harry huffed with a timid laugh, “I was worried that you wouldn’t want to see me after all these years.”

     “What? Come on, Harry. You were my best friend. We’ll always be there for each other.”

     At first, Harry just stared at the space between them in the backseat of the limo. After a second though, he re-adjusted himself a little closer; that space between them nearly disappearing.

     Without a word, his hand reached up and Peter was about to open his mouth to ask what he was doing but before he did, Harry cupped the back of his neck in his grip and pressed his lips to Peter's. Like the backseat of the limo was electrified, Peter jumped in his skin. He jerked back from Harry’s grasp and watched as Harry’s eyes fluttered open again in a shocked look.

     “Oh shit. I’m so sorry, Peter. _Fuck_. I uh… I misread that situation,” Harry said and covered his mouth with his hand. Peter’s heart lurched in his chest like a stone plunging into a lake when he realized he could still feel the sensation of Harry's lips against his like a brand.

     “It’s…It’s okay. I mean... I forgive you,” he stammered.

     “I’m sorry,” Harry sighed. He scooted himself further away on the seat and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just… been so long and I…”

     “I get it,” Peter said. His heart was racing in his chest, stomach flipping, and his palms felt clammy and cold. “Consider it already forgotten.”

     Harry glanced up at him like a shamed puppy. The corner of his mouth turned up into a weak excuse of a smile.

     “Thanks, Peter. You really are a great guy.”

     Peter felt heat blossom in his face. He didn’t know what to say and his eyes flickered out the window as he tried to think of something, _anything_ , to break this weird, awkward moment.

     “I hope that, uh… Maybe if I didn’t fuck things up royally just now, that we could hang out again soon. It’s just um… I think dad’s getting ready to send me back any day now.”

     “Again?” Peter asked. He shook his head. “But you just got back.”

     “I know, right? I overheard him on the phone talking to somebody about getting my things packed up. I just don’t know when…”

     “Harry, you know you don’t _have_ to do what he wants anymore, right?”

     “He’s just trying to do what’s best for me. That’s all.”

     “Just… make sure you keep in mind what _you_ think is best for you. That’s important too.”

     Harry smiled a little more.

     “So… maybe I’ll see you around?”

     “Yeah,” Peter breathed. “Absolutely.”

     “Good. Have a good night, Pete.”

     “You too,” he said. He grabbed his backpack from the floor and slipped out of the limo. The air was crisp but the wind was low and his breath puffed out in a dense cloud that ghosted thick and heavy in the night. He watched the limo inch back into the street and away from the bronx neighborhood. On a good day, half of the street lamps worked but the piercing headlights of the limousine cut through the dark and slipped away out of sight around the corner.

     Peter climbed the steps to the apartment but frowned when he opened the door. It was completely dark inside. He did a quick scan through the rooms but Wade wasn’t home. It only took him but a minute to change into his spider suit and he dashed back out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bopping along to Nick Jonas' Jealous on repeat*


	7. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I actually wrote a lot of the rest of the story but I finally finished this chapter so I wanted to post it. Hopefully I'll be able to throw the rest up real soon. Thanks so much to everyone reading <3

     Peter had no clue where to start to look for Wade. He decided that the vantage point from their old meet-up spot on the roof of the department store two blocks over would at least let him survey his options. He shot off like a bullet through the dark and swung with practiced ease towards the roof. When he landed down though, he froze. Sitting on the rooftop a couple yards away, with his back propped against the cement wall ledge, was Wade. He sat with his hood up and he appeared to be nursing a big, chunky bottle of liquor in one hand.

     Peter’s heart raced in his chest. He suddenly had no clue what to say. Wade however, broke the strange silence for him.

     “You were right,” he said. “You deserve to know what I’ve got against Norman Osborn.”

     Peter just stood across the way in patient silence, letting Wade find his words without rushing him.

     “Rogers and I… we’ve been searching for leads. That serum that Chameleon mentioned? I’ve been trying to find out who’s making it,” he admitted. He spoke to the graveled rooftop, unable to look at Peter. “And I think there’s a chance that Norman Osborn is somehow a part of this and if he is, that means he’s connected to some really terrible shit.”

     “You mean Weapon X?”

     Wade’s head whipped up and Peter saw that panicked look on his face.

     “Yes.”

     “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Peter tried. He took a step closer but Wade looked down at the bottle in his lap. He took a long swig and shifted on the ground.

     “Look, I’m not gonna be some asshole that tells you that you can’t see your friend, but… Just promise me that you’ll be careful around the Osborns. Both of them.”

     Peter’s heart dropped into his stomach again. All he could think about was Harry leaning in and kissing him in the back of the limo. He swallowed around the nervous lump in his throat.

     “I promise, Wade. I won’t let anything happen.”

     “Come ‘ere,” Wade mumbled. Peter slipped down next to him and Wade wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder. He tugged him in close and Peter could feel the warmth radiating off of Wade’s body. He tilted the almost empty bottle of liquor towards Peter. “Want some?”

     “What is it?” he asked. He pulled his mask off and eyed the bottle with caution.

     “Tequila. It’s got a kick to it.”

     Unsure but curious, Peter took the bottle. The liquor swishing around at the bottom was an unfortunate yellow color. He tried to take a confident gulp of it but his face scrunched up like he just bit into a lemon, rind and all.

     “Oh god, that’s awful,” he coughed.

     “Ha, yeah, I’m not gonna argue with you there.”

     Wade’s eyes drifted down the slope of Peter’s neck and there was that little, pink splotch again, clear as day. He reached over and traced the outline of it with the pad of his thumb. Peter’s breath hitched and he glanced up at Wade.

     “In the lab… one of the wires shocked me. It was stupid.”

     “Are you okay?” Wade whispered. He stopped touching the sensitive skin around the burn but he couldn’t quite make himself pull away, instead cupping the back of Peter’s neck. He rubbed the tense muscles with a warm, comforting hold and Peter reached up to keep Wade’s hand there.

     “I’m fine,” he nodded.

     Wade leaned in and nodded in response, their noses brushing before Wade kissed him. It was a soft, undemanding thing that surprised Peter because it was almost _timid_ in way that was very unlike Wade. Maybe he thought that Peter was upset at him about earlier, but Peter wasn’t angry. He knew that Wade was afraid-- that much was obvious.

     Scared of Norman Osborn? Scared of Weapon X?

     Both.

     “Wade? What was Weapon X trying to do?”

     He stayed close to Peter, their foreheads touching. Peter could hear Wade swallow before he answered.

     “They wanted to make a perfect soldier by mutating humans… and not always willingly.”

     “Wade…”

     “They did many bad things, Peter. And they're dangerous.”

     “Then we'll put a stop to them. Together. The right way.” Peter caught Wade’s eyes and he looked very, very tired. Peter’s heart ached for him. “Let's go home, Red.”

     Wade nodded and let his hand slip from Peter's neck. He looked at the bottle in his lap and polished off the rest of the tequila.

     “Okay, Spidey, but you might need to escort this lady down to the ground. I think my liver's still trying to get through the last quarter of this handle.”

     “I think we can manage that,” Peter said. He slipped his mask back on and helped Wade get his legs under him.

 

     ~*~

 

     Even though Peter had to swing Wade down, otherwise risking a _long_ tumble down a fire escape, by the time they reached Wade’s apartment, he seemed to have regained complete motor skills again. He tugged Peter inside and sealed the door shut against the chilly air while Peter leaned in to flip the switch so the fluorescent lights over the sink in the kitchen blinked on.

     Wade didn't let him get too far though and he caught his hand to drag him back into his space. Peter chuckled and slipped his mask off, letting Wade wrap his arms around his back and press them together.

     Peter's hair was messy and his nose was pink from the cold, and Wade couldn't think of a more breathtaking person to be standing in his arms.

     “God, I missed you so much today.”

     “Really?” Peter began shuffling them back through the living room and Wade made sure to move him from possible obstacles along the way with little lifts using his hold on Peter's ass.

     “Yeah,” Wade breathed, kissing Peter again. “Couldn’t stop thinking about last night.”

     Peter blushed. He could feel it all the way to his ears.

     “Yeah, me too.” He laughed a timid little sound. “Even in the lab I had to distract myself from getting hard thinking about it.”

     Wade smirked a lewd grin. Peter pulled him through the door into the bedroom, hitting the switch on the wall without even looking, and they stood by the bed while Wade snuck him tiny kisses.

     “Mmm, and what a sight that would be. Maybe I should sneak in one night while you’re working and we can swap some DNA samples.”

     “Wade…” Peter gasped. He ground back into Wade’s hands kneading his butt and then forward against the hard press of Wade's body. “You better not. It’s bad enough that while we patrol you try to get some in every alley… and on every roof… and in the subway that one time…”

     “I just can’t help myself, Peter. You know how much I love that suit on you.”

     Peter laughed. “Oh yes, you make it very, _very_ clear how much you love it.”

     “What I wouldn’t do just to run my hands over every inch of your cute, spider body,” Wade groaned.

     Peter leaned up to pull him down into a kiss and Wade was hungry for it. Too soon though, Peter pushed him back and he landed on the bed with a _hmph._

     “How about you getting out of those clothes first?”  

     Wade smiled and sat up to reach behind his back to try to pull his sweatshirt sleeves off _and_ at the same time try to kick his boots off, but struggled and failed miserably at both tasks.

     “Here, let me help you.”

     Peter got to his knees and started tugging the laces of Wade’s boots loose. Wade just sat there with his hands stuck behind his back like he had forgotten about trying to shrug the hoodie off altogether. Peter glanced up at him and smirked at the entranced look on Wade’s face as he stared down at Peter on the floor between his knees. Wade was the horniest person Peter had ever met and he knew how he must look.

     He got Wade’s boots off without a problem and threw them aside. Putting his hands on Wade’s knees and spreading them a little further, he scooted in closer to Wade’s space before he reached up and helped pushed his sweatshirt off his shoulders and down his arms for him. Wade managed to get his arms to work again and the second the article of clothing released him he reached out and pulled Peter’s face in for a kiss.

     Peter could taste the tequila still but it wasn’t as bad as it was straight from the bottle. He shivered in Wade’s hold and pressed himself as close as possible against his body.

     “So… how about an encore of last night?” Wade asked. His voice was low and husky and Peter loved when Wade was this turned on.

     “Actually, I had some other ideas.”

     Peter crawled himself up onto Wade’s lap and pressed his hands into the broad muscles on his chest to pin him down on the bed sheets. Wade didn’t mind, rather he went with a smile and busied himself with stroking up and down the spandex-smooth length of Peter’s thighs by his side.

     “Do you remember way back when we fought The Human Fly?”

     “Yeah,” Wade replied, half-paying attention. He was tracing the dark blue lines of fabric on Peter’s thighs with his fingertips.

     “And when he hit me mid-swing out of the air and you caught me?”

     “You’re giving me a little too much credit, if I recall correctly,” Wade smiled. “I believe it was more like I broke your fall.”

     “Okay, yes,” Peter chuckled. “And I landed like this? Draped over you and right in your lap?”

     “Fuck, Spidey,” Wade hissed. He wiggled under Peter but he kept Wade flat on the bed, massaging and enjoying the feel of his pecs beneath his palms.

     “I have to admit… I jerked off every day that week thinking about how you felt underneath me.”

     Wade groaned out a deep, rumbling sound. “Oh good, then it wasn’t just me.”

     Peter laughed and dipped down to kiss him again and Wade did his best to lean up into it. His arms wrapped around Peter’s back and held him close, refusing to let him pull away, and Peter melted into the embrace. Wade licked into his mouth and Peter moaned when their tongues met. He shivered in Wade’s lap and the merc flexed his hips up against Peter’s ass.

     “I… I want to do it like this,” Peter whispered. “In your lap... with you as deep as possible.”

     “ _Damn_ , that's fine by me, baby boy,” Wade purred. The corner of his lips quirked up. “How about I get you started?”

     He flipped Peter over in a flash and turned him face down on the bed. Peter went with a gasp but he didn't protest as Wade grabbed his hips and pulled him up onto all fours. Wade slotted himself right behind him, taking a second to grind his crotch against that heavenly butt before he draped himself over Peter’s back. He held himself up with his left hand, but his right he trailed down the fabric stretched across Peter’s chest and tight stomach towards his groin, just to massage the hardening length under his hot palm. Peter moaned and tipped his head back onto Wade’s shoulder, and he couldn’t resist latching unto the stretch of Peter’s neck.

     He rubbed Peter’s hard-on just long enough to tease and leaned back to tug the waistband of Peter's pants down, but not all the way off. He let the material rest right under the crease where Peter's thighs met his ass cheeks. He was maybe a little overzealous, but it wasn’t his fault. Just thinking about Peter in his bed in his old apartment, fisting his cock and thinking about _Wade_ as he unraveled, was more than enough to rev his engine up.

     He gripped the bottom of Peter’s ass and thumbed his checks apart. Wade flicked his tongue over the pink furl of muscles and watched as it twitched from the sensation.    

     “ _Fuuuuck_ ,” Peter hissed. He dropped his head down to the sheets and moaned low as Wade started taking his time licking him open. Peter always fell apart fast under his tongue and lips though, especially when Wade ate him out, and tonight was no exception.

     Teasing Peter’s hole with the pointed tip of his tongue, Wade snaked his hand around Peter’s hip and found his cock trapped still in the front of his spandex pants. Wade tugged the material down a little bit more and Peter's cock sprung free and hung between his legs.

     It was hard as a rock and twitched in Wade’s grasp when he curled his fingers around it, but he barely stroked it as he twisted his tongue in and out of that tight, little rim of muscles. He held it flush with the curve of Peter’s stomach as his back arched down and Peter let out a sweet whimper when Wade rubbed the tip with his index finger to smear the beading precome.

     Wade pulled his hand back and popped his index finger into his mouth to get it nice and wet, savoring the sharp taste of Peter’s precome, and then watched as he breached the twitching hole. He hooked his finger down and Peter gasped in shock. His hand flew down to his cock and fisted the base in a tight hold. Wade stroked his finger in slow wiggles, stimulating Peter’s prostate gland in teasing little touches.

 _Jesus_ , and the sounds coming out of Peter. He was so sensitive to everything Wade did to him and Wade could probably live off Peter’s moans alone. Who needed food or water anyways?

     He licked his tongue inside with his finger and maybe took more time than it needed before he added two fingers. After all, he said he’d help, not that he’d rush.

     “Unnng, Wade. Come on, _please_ ,” Peter whined, his voice cracking at the end. He started struggling out of the top of his suit as best he could from his position. Even so, his hips hardly stopped wiggling backwards, trying to get Wade’s hand in deeper.

     “ _Damn_ , Peter. Okay, okay.” he caved. Wade watched the way Peter’s hole twitched when his fingers slid out and, _fuck,_ he was hard as a rock in his jeans.

     Peter rushed to tug his suit bottoms all the way down and Wade scrambled to strip off everything as he laid back on the bed, leaning to the nightstand and snagging the lube. Peter laughed and shook his head as he ripped off the sock Wade forgot before he slinked his way over him. Wade’s hands instantly came up to pet along Peter’s sides and stroke his thumbs over the jut of hip bones as Peter settled down on Wade’s abs. His cock brushed against Peter’s ass but Peter ignored it in favor of reaching for the bottle of lube and popping the cap.

     “Hey, Wade?” he said, reaching behind his back and getting himself slick.

     “Yeah?”

     “I missed you too,” he smiled. When he reached for Wade’s cock to slick him up as well, the lube on his fingers was warm from his body heat.

     Wade watched Peter’s face as he started to lower himself down. His lips were parted yet he held his breath, his eyelashes fluttering to his flushed cheeks as Wade completely breached inside of him. He looked so determined as he rocked his weight down, bit by bit, and Wade had to groan at the incredible feeling of sinking inside that burning hot, slick channel.

     Peter’s breath shook out of him as he reached all the way down in Wade’s lap. He panted as his hand flew to clutch at Wade’s shoulders and Wade massaged his back in soothing strokes to try to relax him, though Peter just let out a little chuckle that did funny things to Wade’s heart.

     “It’s okay-- I’m alright,” he reassured. A little smile played at the corner of his lips. “I’m not about to boost your ego ten-fold by admitting to you how big you are.”

     Wade burst out in a laugh and Peter chuckled too. Wade could feel the way Peter’s muscles squeezed around him as he laughed.

     “I’ll take the subtle compliment then and be grateful.”

     Peter laughed again and Wade’s heart melted the rest of the way at the sound.

     Right before Wade was about to start begging, Peter began to move; rocking in Wade’s lap as he got used to the angle. He undulated in erotic, slow arches as he rode him. The muscles corded around his hips and packed flat across his stomach flexed with every movement and it was hypnotizing to watch.

     [[And we’ve died and gone to heaven.]]

     {{This is definitely the closest we’ll ever come.}}

     Peter’s hips were really rocking now and his hard cock rubbed against the textured skin of Wade’s abs. Wade wrapped his fingers into a tight channel around Peter’s cock against his stomach so when Peter rocked back he took Wade all the way inside and when he rocked forward the head of his cock pushed through Wade’s fingers, fucking his fist.

     Peter moaned and dropped his chin to his chest. His rocking faltered for a moment and Wade could feel the way Peter’s cock throbbed in his hand.

     “Come ‘ere,” Wade growled. He sat up, gripped Peter’s back, and scooted them up the bed where he could lean up against the headboard. Peter wrapped an arm around Wade’s neck, holding himself up in Wade’s lap with his other hand glued to the headboard. A breathy chuckle slipped out of him at the sudden manhandling and inside, Wade purred at the sexy sound.

     Wade grabbed a hold of Peter’s narrow hips. His hands kept Peter pinned in his lap and he rubbed his thumbs into the soft, sensitive junction of groin where Peter’s thighs meet his pelvis right next to his balls. He jerked in Wade’s grip but melted back into the sensation. Wade was tempted to touch Peter’s rosy-pink cock where it was pressed against Wade’s abs but he distracted himself from the thought watching the way the tacky slit was dripping little smears on his skin.

     “Wade please,” Peter said. “I was getting so close…”

     “Soon, I promise. Soon,” he whispered.

     Peter forced his lips to Wade’s, starting a desperate kiss that Wade was eager to meet. Keeping his complete hold on Peter’s hips, he prompted Peter to lift up just barely before sinking back down on his lap. Peter wanted more, faster, but Wade was the one calling the shots here. He followed Wade’s prompting and the two set a languid pace that drove them both half-desperate.

     “Aw, yes, Peter. Just like that,” Wade hissed. He could feel the warmth pooling in his groin and ever so slowly, he moved Peter faster and faster.

     Peter’s breaths started to become uneven; short pauses that turned into little pants as he chased his pleasure closer and closer to the end. He probably didn’t even realize that he was doing it. For Wade though, it was a dead give-away that Peter was close. As a matter of fact, the very act of noticing this simple clue gave Wade a sudden idea.

     “Hey, Peter? I want you to try something for me, sweetheart.”

     Wade knew that he was about to ask for a lot. Maybe too much. For christ’s sake, Peter and him had never even _talked_ about the heavier, potentially dangerous, kinks. No safe words or anything.

     Yet.

     Wade guessed he had just been waiting, was all. He didn’t want to scare the kid off. Although, while Wade knew he himself had a kinky streak a mile wide, he also suspected that Peter had one of his own. Maybe buried a bit, but Wade was willing to extract each little piece he could find with all the patience of an archeologist unearthing a hidden treasure. After all, he was frigging dating Deadpool of all people.

     Even so. This, he had to play very carefully.

     He made Peter still in his lap and snaked his right hand up Peter’s body. It slid up the gentle slope of Peter’s neck and he held it there-- just a hold. The fluttering pulse of Peter’s heart danced right under the thin skin and Wade slipped his thumb to the side, away from the artery, to be safe.

     “I want you to match your breathing to my words. Breathe when you need to, but try to follow my cue, okay?”

     Peter blinked at him for a second until the words caught up. His eyelids flittered and Wade knew that he had been right before Peter even spoke. He had struck something worthy.

     “Y-Yes, okay.”

     “Take a slow, deep breath in and hold it ‘til I say, alright?”

     Peter swallowed and Wade could feel the motion of it under his palm. Peter nodded as best he could while being held in place and his ruby lips parted so he could pant soft, little sounds. His hips ground in tiny circles and it was so distracting and amazing, but Wade made him be still again.

     “Okay, good. Then take a nice, easy breath in for me, baby boy, and… perfect, just like that. Hold it.”

     Wade waited until he heard the whole breath freeze in Peter’s chest and then tightened his hand just so. He pressed his fingers a little harder into the muscles of Peter’s neck. Wade made certain to keep both Peter’s carotid artery and jugular vein on each side unpressed. The same thing with his windpipe. Still, Wade hoped that the hint of pressure timed just right with Peter’s voluntary breath-holding would be close enough to tease a little breathplay out of him.

     Wade’s grip on Peter's hip was strong enough to make him lift up a couple of inches off his cock. He made Peter drop hard into his lap with the next bounce and watched as Peter’s jaw fell open for a silent moan he choked off, afraid to let out any of that breath trapped in his chest until Wade said so. Wade lifted and dropped him down even harder and Peter’s face pulled into the sweet, shocked look Wade loved best when they were in bed. Counting off in his head, Wade only waited until he reached five.

     “That’s it. And let it out, Peter.”

     He relaxed his grip on Peter’s throat and the moment he did, Peter let out his breath in a keening moan. His body stuttered in Wade’s lap before sinking back down, taking all of Wade deep inside and making Wade grunt out from the pleasure even though Peter was more than loud enough to drown out the sound.

     “ _Oh fuck_. Oh my god, Wade,” Peter panted. His hands clenched Wade’s shoulders and he wiggled in his lap, spreading his knees to a more advantageous position so he could move despite Wade trying to keep him slow. Wade gave in and let him pick up the pace again, sliding his hand from Peter’s hip around to grope that cute, little ass. He reached further and teased his finger around Peter’s stretched rim, enjoying the way he was so incredibly tight around Wade’s cock.

     “Again for me, baby boy,” Wade groaned. “Hold it.”

     Peter sucked in a breath and tipped his head back when Wade’s fingers squeezed. He rode Wade as hard as he could with Wade’s grip on his neck. Wade did his best to focus on counting in his head. Peter could probably hold his breath longer than Wade could, but even _he_ was nervous to push Peter too far too fast.

     Wade didn’t even get to tell him to let his breath out when Peter jerked in his hold. Hot pulses of come stripped Wade’s abs suddenly and he released Peter’s neck as he came. For a couple of seconds Peter still held his breath locked in his chest, twitching in Wade’s lap and grinding his cock deep inside, before he sucked in a hitching breath that dissolved into a lewd moan.

     Wade snapped. He grabbed Peter’s hips to lift him and slam him upside down on the bed, still buried deep inside. He started pumping his hips and Peter just wrapped his arms tighter around Wade’s neck and tipped his head back with an even louder moan.

     He felt the moment when Peter’s whole body went lax in his arms as his orgasm ended and something about how he blinked at Wade in slow motion like he was his entire world shoved Wade right over the edge as well. His eyes snapped closed and squeezed, letting out a deep moan at the powerful rush of his orgasm. His blood pounded in his ears and he could feel with vibrating energy every place where him and Peter touched.

     Peter held him tight in his arms and his face tucked into Wade’s neck, his breath hot and panting along Wade’s skin and Wade shivered at the feeling. He pulled back and locked his lips to Peter’s. He was going to kiss him silly before either of them moved an inch… and then maybe for a while longer after that.

 

     ~*~

 

     Wade couldn’t breathe. His lungs gasped air into his chest like a fish out of water but the air did little good without any oxygen present. He tried over and over again to pull in a deeper breath but the thick straps of leather binding him to the metal bed were as tight as possible and provided no give for his heaving chest. Burning pain radiated outward from his heart and lungs, through his whole sternum, and made his head spin. Tiny black dots danced around the edges of his eyesight and he couldn’t stop his chest from trying to gasp in more air even though there was no relief every time he did.

     He felt the world try to spin out around him like he was wasted drunk. Just as everything started to go black, he heard the soft _hiss_ of oxygen leaking back into the deprivation tank.

     Wade wheezed in a breath and the black dots faded away but the pain in his chest did no better. Something was wrong. Everything inside of him hurt, and not in the agonizing way he had gotten used to as the cancer rotted him from inside out. This pain was growing into a crescendo through every inch of his being and if only he could _breathe for a goddamn second_ maybe it would go away.

     As soon as it came, the oxygen sucked back out of the tank and Wade choked on his breath.

 _Nonononono,_ he tried pleading but even if he could speak there was no one to hear him. Time meant nothing in the perpetual, excruciating pain, and Ajax could return in an hour or twelve. It didn’t matter. Either way, it’d be too late. Wade was going to choke to death, trapped in this tube, and there was nothing he could do about it. He realized he almost wished for death. He wasn’t tired of fighting, but rather, he was afraid that he'd be stuck here forever. The terrifying insanity of this Hell for the rest of time... that was enough to drive any man to the edge with the muzzle of a gun pressed to the base of his skull, forcing him to jump.

     He had to get out. He had to escape. He had _to breathe, JUST FUCKING BREATHE!_

 

     ~*~

 

     Peter bolted upright in bed, startled awake from his deep sleep by a frightening noise beside him. He glanced over and there was Wade on the bed next to him, except something was very wrong. Wade’s body was locked up tight, his hands clenching the sheet below him in a death grip and he shook as if he was deep in the throws of a seizure. Hollow, rasping breaths tore from his chest and hearing Wade choke, Peter jumped into action.

     “Wade! Wade?” he shouted. He grabbed him by the shoulders but Peter realized that Wade was still asleep.

     “Wake up, Wade! Please!”

     Peter shook him hard and yet Wade was trapped in the night terror’s hold. Peter had never heard anyone make sounds like Wade did as he suffocated and struggled in Peter’s grasp and the horrible noise of it turned Peter’s blood to ice in his veins.

     “WAKE UP!” he screamed and slapped his hand on Wade’s chest.

     Suddenly, Wade sat up with a gasp like a man resurfacing from underwater. He grabbed Peter’s arms in a lightning-fast clutch and Peter jerked back from the painful force of his grip. Wade let go, but his hands shook in front of him as he dragged breath after breath into his desperate lungs. A pained sound ripped from Wade on an exhale and he curled in on himself.

     “Shhhhhhh, it’s okay. It’s okay, Wade. You’re safe. We’re here in bed and you’re safe,” Peter rambled. He wrapped his arms around Wade’s back and pulled him in close and Wade crumpled into his embrace, pressing his face into the crook of Peter’s neck and shoulder. Hot tears soaked into the fabric of his t-shirt as Wade sobbed and Peter didn’t know what to do beside keep whispering in his ear and rubbing his back. After ten minutes, the sobs started to lose force and Peter decided to ease Wade back down in bed. He clung to Peter still but he let Wade stay there and tugged the sheets over them again.

     Wade’s harsh pants slowed bit by bit and Peter was surprised to notice that at some point he had fallen asleep again in Peter’s arms. Sleep seemed far away now for Peter though; Wade had scared the living daylights out of him.


	8. Losing Grip

     Peter’s cell phone buzzed on the floor, vibrating loud enough to wake him in an instant. He bolted up and reached down off the bed, pulling the cell from his suit where it had ended up on the floor. Otto’s name flashed on the screen and Peter glanced over at Wade. Despite the ruckus, Wade was still deep in sleep, and Peter untangled himself from the sheets to slip out into the living room. The second the door clicked shut, Peter hit answer.

     “Hello?”

     “Parker! Yes, I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but if it’s not too much trouble I would greatly appreciate you coming by the lab.”

     “Oh, um--”

     “Please, Parker. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't incredibly important,” Otto begged.

     “Yeah, sure... No problem, Doc.”

     “Perfect! You won’t believe it until you see it.”

     “Believe what?”

     “Trust me, this is a fantastic day for Octavius Industries. How soon can you be here?”

     Peter mulled it over. If he took the subway, best case scenario, he’d be there in a half an hour, but swinging?

     “I’ll be there in fifteen,” he said.

     “Perfect, just perfect,” Otto said and hung up, leaving Peter very curious.

     He inched the bedroom door open and peeked inside. Wade was still asleep, his face pressed into the side of Peter's pillow, and still curled up in the position he had fallen asleep in after his nightmare. Peter's heart wrenched in his chest when he remembered how Wade had sounded, crying in his arms. Such a haunting, _broken_ sort of anguish that Peter couldn't shake from his head, even now in the bright light of day.

     Peter sat himself down ever so carefully on the bed next to Wade. Even in sleep, Wade's brow was drawn tight and his shoulders seemed tense as he curled in.

     Should he wake him or let him rest?

     Maybe if Peter hurried, he could check in with Otto and be back before Wade even woke up. To be safe, he typed out a quick text and sent it to Wade's phone. Once he saw Wade's phone light up on the nightstand from his message, he got up and grabbed his suit and backpack. He just hoped Wade would sleep peacefully while he was gone…

 

     ~*~

 

     Peter straightened his lab coat, untwisting a sleeve real quick, before he pushed the door open to the lab.

     “Hello?”

     “Parker! Just in time…” Otto drawled, strolling out from the kitchenette with two empty mugs in his hands, handing one to Peter. His gait had a slight limp to it as he walked.

     “To celebrate!”

     Peter froze in place and eyed Otto. He was dressed in a dark green jumpsuit, zipped up the front, with black leather pads on his torso. Peter glanced around at the lab. Empty boxes were strewn all over the place, messy note papers pilling on the desks, and Otto sported a five o’clock shadow on his drawn face.

     “Wait… Where are the arms?”

     Otto broke into a huge grin and without a word, two steel arms extended from the ports on the back of his suit and rose up into the air. They were sleek and the metal plates moved together seamlessly, flexible and smooth-like. On each end, the hands had been replaced with four pinching, claw-like digits. The tips were razor-sharp and clicked together as they opened as closed. The tentacle-like limbs spread out, longer than before, and jagged metal spurs lined along the length of them.

     “Oh wow… But how did you--”

     “Intra-cranial neural network.” One of the arms dashed out past Peter, making him gasp, and it snagged a bottle of whiskey off the desk behind him. “Neuro-transmission speeds under one nanosecond.”  

     With ridiculous speed, the two arms worked together to unscrew the cap on the bottle and pour out a glug into Peter’s mug.

     “Faster than signals travel inside the brain,” Otto smiled, pouring his own drink as well. “Never mind to an external prosthesis! We did it, Parker. No one can take this away from us.”

     The arms slammed down onto the ground, shaking it under Peter’s feet, and Otto stepped forward to clink his mug with Peter’s.

     “Amazing…”

     “And your work on the neural web was the key!” Otto said. The arms lifted him a foot off the floor and instead of Otto walking, the arms stepped forward one by one and moved him over to the other desk nearby and placed him back down. Peter frowned and placed his mug down.

     “But we haven’t even tested it yet. There’s so much we don’t know…”

     “It works beautifully!” Otto insisted. Peter couldn’t share in his enthusiasm though. Otto picked up a tablet off the desk and held it out for Peter to take. On it, the neural web program Peter had designed was running and he took it from Otto nervously. “C’mon, take a look for yourself, Parker.”

     Peter shuffled back to his desk and sat down, watching Otto use to the arms to lift himself across the lab to the other side. Peter glanced down at the tablet and started the diagnostic test.

     A scan of Otto’s head popped up on the side of the screen and Peter could see the shape of his brain and spine. The outline of a glowing implant flashed green, attached to Otto’s spine at the bottom of his neck. The test was running, but the program only reached twenty-four percent complete before a red notification box popped up. In bold, red text flashed the words:

 

_Critical Failure: Motor cortex components require attention!_

 

_Simulating possible side effects: … … …_

 

_Probability of:_

 

  * _Seizures _-_ 38.7%_


  * _Short Term Memory Loss - 40.4%_


  * _Long Term Memory Loss - 62.3%_



 

 

     The diagram on the side of Otto’s brain and neural implant turned from green to bright red, and Peter’s heart raced in his chest. Two new bullets popped up in warning:

 

 

  * _Limbic Degradation - 98.3%_


  * _Frontal Lobe Edema - 94.8%_



 

 

_WARNING: High risk of mood or personality shift. Discontinue use immediately._

   

“This is bad…” Peter whispered. He looked up at the sound of Otto coming back, the arms slamming into the ground as he was carried forward.

     “Uh, Doctor… I found a potential problem,” he tried, but Otto glided past him, shaking his head.

     “Everything has problems if you look hard enough. But fortune favors the bold.”

Suddenly, _two more arms_ came out of the back of Otto’s suit, all four huge tentacles hitting the ground and lifting him high up into the air.

     “It’s time to show the world what we’ve done!”

     Peter stood up and tried to speak in a calm manner.

     “Otto… The neural web isn’t isolating your motor neurons. It could be affecting other parts of your brain. Your inhibitions, your mood… I just think we need to do some more testing.”

     “We’ve done enough testing!” One tentacle flew towards Peter, slapping the tablet from his hand and it smashed on the ground. _Jesus,_ those things were fast.

     “For the first time in my life I don’t feel like a failure!” Otto shouted, slowly circling Peter. “I feel like me!”

     Peter tried to shuffle back. “Otto, you’re not a failure. But this could permanently damage your mind. Please…”

     The smile started to wipe off of Otto’s face.

     “Right… Yes...” he said, lowering back to the ground. He reached up behind his head and flipped off the neural implant on his neck. The device went dark and all four arms coiled back into their ports.

     “Don’t worry. We’re close,” Peter reassured. Otto looked like he was close to crying, but he nodded and forced a smile on his face.

     “I’ll… I’ll keep at it and… work out some bugs. Go… go.”

     “If it’s okay...” Peter tried. “I think I might stay around and help out for a couple of hours. How about I go out and grab us some food, and then when I get back, we’ll start working through some of those bugs.”

     “Thanks, Parker. For everything. I… I should confess as to why I’ve been so adamant about pushing forward…” he started. Peter could tell that something heavy was weighing on Otto; all these late nights working, the bursts of frustration and anger, and how he seemed to be looking more and more run down every day...

     “Doc? What’s going on?”

     Otto sighed and braced his hands down on the desktop.

     “My doctors call it a ‘degenerative neurological disorder’, probably caused by overexposure to toxic chemicals in my… reckless youth.”

     “I’m sorry,” Peter frowned. “Is there anything I can do?”

     “You already are. The worst part is it only affects the muscles. The mind continues to work but… it can no longer _do_.” Otto picked his head up and looked at him. “You’re the only one who knows, Peter. I’d like to keep it that way.”

     “Of course.”

     Otto nodded and swallowed.

     “Uh… if you’d like to seek a position with more of a future…”

     “I came here to work for you because of what you’ve got up here,” Peter said, pointing to Otto’s head, “and that’s not going anywhere. So neither am I. I promise, Doc. Together, we’ll make your dream come true.”

     Otto smiled and pulled Peter into a quick hug. Otto pulled back, and although he looked exhausted, he looked like himself again.

     “Just hang tight, and I’ll be right back,” Peter said and he jogged out of the room. Otto stood alone in the lab. His hand reached up, hovered over the implant on his neck, _twitching_ , and then lowered again.

   

     ~*~

 

     Wade didn't sleep as long as Peter had hoped. He was lucky though, for he had no other nightmares and woke up blinking at the light of the setting sun as it peeked through the neighboring buildings and into his window. The light was cool and gray and the cloudy sky was already threatening a storm. He sat himself up and at first, he didn’t remember his nightmare at all. When he looked over at Peter’s empty side of the bed though, it all came back to him. The dream, being woken up out of it… oh god, and how he had _sobbed._

     [[Talk about sad,]] White sassed.

     {{Where’s Peter?}} Yellow worried.

     That was a good question. Wade threw the sheets off and headed out to the living room. He peeked around but everything was quiet and Peter was nowhere to be found. His heart thumped nervously in his chest and he went back into the bedroom to grab his cell phone from the nightstand. However, a text from Peter was waiting for him and he sighed in relief as he read it:

 

     _Sorry Wade, but Otto called and needed me at the lab asap. Didn’t want to wake you, but if you need anything at all, just call. I’ll be home as early as possible tonight. --XOXO_

 

Wade did think about calling for a second, just to hear Peter’s voice, but decided against it. He was probably in the middle of some important science stuff anyways. Wade plopped himself back down on the bed and blinked in the silence.

     That fucking dream. It had felt so _real_. The longer he sat and thought about it though, the more he desperately just wanted to forget it altogether. There was no way he was just going to sit around the apartment for hours, waiting for Peter to come home, with nothing to distract him from the dream trying to creep back in to his thoughts every second it could.

     He had to get up and _do something_ , otherwise he was going to drive himself insane.

     {{Too late for that.}}

     [[That ship sailed a long time ago.]]

     And on top of everything, he didn’t need the boxes to make things worse today. Maybe he’d head over to Sister Margaret’s and bother Weasel while he drank. Drinking alone again didn’t sound too appealing though and he dismissed the thought.

     Wade snagged his laptop off the desk and sat back on the edge of the bed. This time when he opened the internet browser, he googled Norman Osborn. The same kind of government and journalist websites popped up from when he searched Shirley Woodrow, but there was _a lot more_ that people had to say about Osborn. There were dozens after dozens of links to articles and blogs, including J. Jonah Jameson’s, about how either perfectly wonderful or absolutely wretched the man was as mayor, but Wade didn’t bother to stop and read them.

     Something did manage to catch his eye though, so he opened the link and read the article title:

     _LAWSUITS FILED AGAINST OSCORP, OSBORN SPEAKS OUT ABOUT ALLEGED POLLUTION CLAIMS-- PROTESTS IN TOMPKINS SQUARE PARK._

     Wade started to scan the article but frozen when he saw the press photo. A throng of protestors stood by the edge of Tompkins Square Park holding picket signs, but behind them in the frame loomed the abandoned building that Peter and him had investigated the other night. The building itself looked hardly recognizable though; the boarded-up windows were shiny with glass panes and at the top in big, bold letters read the word ‘Oscorp’.

     Wade checked the date of the article and found that it was written over two years ago. He scrolled to read the rest of the story but it only stated how the locals were worried that run-off from this particular Oscorp lab were damaging the park. A city official was quoted as saying:

     “ _The city of Manhattan takes pollution issues very seriously and will be looking into the proper testing to determine if this branch of Oscorp Industries will have to undergo changes to their procedures or risk being shut down.”_

     [[Well, it looks like they got the axe.]]

     {{That place was _looooong_ since closed when we got there.}}

     What the hell could Oscorp have been making that was so potentially harmful? If that lab was facing a complete shut-down, why not change what they were doing? Maybe... they couldn’t. In that case, maybe closing up shop was the only option.

     Wade remembered the research station on top of the clock tower. Norman Osborn’s own son had been looking into the cause of the nearby pollution, but when Peter and him had found the station, even _that_ had been shut down as well.

     “I don’t think Daddy wanted anyone to know what he was up to in there…” he whispered.

     Well, Deadpool wasn’t just anyone, and he was going to get to the bottom of it whether Osborn liked it or not.

     Wade jumped into his suit and snagged a flashlight from his stash before he headed out.

 

     ~*~

 

     The abandoned Oscorp building stood guard at the edge of Tompkins Square Park like a sentinel in the dark. The streetlights had flickered on in the time it took Wade to get downtown and the air was warm and humid despite the recent cold spell. Heavy, ashy clouds hung low overhead and if they decided to let loose, at least it would only be cold, shitty rain instead of snow.

     Wade crossed the street after two taxis went lumbering by and cut through the edge of the park, making his way around to the back alley of the building. A couple on the sidewalk heading towards the park passed by, arm in arm and oblivious to Deadpool, and the girl trilled out a laugh that echoed down the alley. Wade heard them disappear and he tried the metal door.

_Fuck, it's locked._

     [[Now what, genius?]]

     {{There's no way we could crawl in through the vent like our cute, little Spidey…}}

     “Well, we'll just have to do this the Deadpool-way.”

     Wade pulled his gun and got out his silencer. It might help muffle the crack of the gunshot, but there would still be the sound the lock was going to make when the bullet tore through it. He held his breath and listened but he couldn't hear the couple or anyone else for that matter. It was now or never.

     He cocked the gun, aimed it, and like a crack of thunder, the lock exploded inward as the gun went off. Wade didn't wait for the dust to settle before he slipped inside, pulling the door shut tight behind him.

     It was pitch black inside. Wade fumbled at his belt and found his flashlight. The strong beam of light danced across the walls and he straightened it out.

     Everything was exactly how Peter and him had left it. Barren and grimy, dusty and innocuous seeming. He worked his way deeper inside. The air was thick and musty in the open lab at the end of the hall. Spiders were weaving webs in the corners and in the alcove between the tops of the cabinets and the ceiling. A sudden shuffling sound came running towards him and Wade almost screamed until he saw it was just a rat, and a _huge_ one, that booked it between his legs and out of the room.

     Wade made his way over to the cabinets and ran his finger over the countertop at his waist. A thick layer of dust smudged away and he shook his hand to get the dust bunnies off. Under the counter were lines of drawers and curious, Wade tugged the top one open.

     On yellowed liner paper, dozens of wrapped syringes of varying sizes and thicknesses rested in the drawer. Wade shoved it closed with a slam and decided not to open any of the others.  

     In the corner of the room on the back wall, stood a metal swinging door. The hinges groaned as Wade pushed through it and he inched into another long hallway. Several identical, steel doors faced off from each other down the length of hall. Wade came to the first set and and ran the flashlight from top to bottom.

     A tiny glass window stood at eye level in the heavy metal door but the glass was thick with dust and when he tried to brush it away, he just ended up smearing the grime around with his glove. The door had a solid bolt lock on the outside. Wade's heart rate picked up and thumped in his chest, making him feel sick.

     He slid the lock and it was rusty, but still moved. With his fingertips on the door, he pushed it open.

     A room, no bigger than a janitor's closet, stood behind the door. The air was so thick with dust that the particles swirled in the beam of the flashlight. The walls were padded and a metal drain was embedded in the center of the floor. Wade took a step inside but froze solid like a corpse in his spot.

     On the ground, rusted and snakelike, were two lengths of chain laying in a heap. They were attached to the walls on either side and at their ends were the open maws of shackles.

     Wade forced his legs to move and stumbled back out in the hall. He spun around and unbolted the door behind him. An identical, padded room with the same chains stood in the musty darkness and Wade slammed the door shut.

     God, all the rooms were the same, all the way down the hall. By the seventh one, Wade stopped checking and turned to look at the door at the very end.

     To Wade’s surprise, the door was unlocked and he pushed it open although more than anything else he wanted to leave. But he couldn’t. Not now.

     The room at the end of the hall was bigger than the cells but not by a terrific amount. Two wooden desks stood against the left and right walls and one rolling computer chair stood in the middle of the room. Three tall, steel filing cabinets stood in the corner and Wade pulled the creaky drawers out but not a single scrap of paper was inside.

     He made his way over to one of the desks and there was a lone mouse pad on the surface, caked in dust, but no computer. He tried the couple of drawers in the desk but besides one dull pencil, there was nothing.

     Wade turned to back out of the room and his boot kicked something across the floor in the process. He heard the scrape of something small scatter across the tile and followed the sound with the beam of his flashlight. In the corner sat a tiny, black, rectangle of plastic and Wade scooped it up.

     It was a small flash drive. It was also the first piece of technology he had found in this barren place. He turned it over and over in his hand.

     [[We should turn it over to Cap,]] White reasoned.

     {{But we don’t even know what’s on it! We should at least peek...}} Yellow whined.

     [[Could be blank. It was left in this shit-hole, after all.]]

     {{But what if it’s not!}}

     God, he wanted to know what was on it. Maybe he would stop by Sister Margaret’s like he had first planned. Maybe, just maybe, his tech-guru-turned-bartender friend could help him out.

 

     ~*~

   

     The rain did indeed come like Wade has suspected and by the time he reached the bar, teeny drops of water started speckling the sidewalk and windshields of passing cars. Wade shoved the heavy wooden door open and flew down the stairs into the barroom of Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls. The place was already bustling but that was normal for a Saturday night. By midnight though? This place would be a zoo… if the animals in a zoo were also shit-faced drunk.

     Weasel looked as cool as a cucumber behind the counter. Two bar girls were pouring pitchers of beer and stacking shot glasses while Weasel leaned against the back counter and scrolled on his phone.

     “Is your laptop here?” Wade asked. Weasel blinked at him for a second before sighing.

     “Well, hello to you too.”

     “This is serious, Weas. I NEED to use your computer.”

     Weasel gave him a suspicious look, but caved.

     “Fine. It’s in the clubhouse. Knock yourself out, but no buying shit from Amazon using my account!” he called after Wade, who was already booking it down the hall.

     Inside the clubhouse, Wade spied Weasel's laptop chilling on top of the round table next to a couple of empty beer bottles. He sat down at the table and took his mask off. The computer booted up and Wade plugged the flash drive into the side of it.

     Weasel shuffled in behind him and crossed his arms.

     “And, by chance, were you planning on ever explaining to _me_ what you're doing?”

     “I need you to open up whatever is on this flash drive,” Wade said. He opened the file explorer and one file labeled _GR-27PrjctSmmry_ sat all alone on the drive. Wade clicked it but he couldn't get it to open.

     “Dammit!”

     “Here, give it to me,” Weasel said. He turned the laptop from Wade and after a second, tilted it back to him. A slideshow presentation opened up full-screen and Wade looked at Weasel in shock.

     “What’d you do?”

     “Nothing crazy. I just hit ‘run as administrator’.”

     “Elite hacker, my ass.”

     “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to unzip a compressed file…”

     “Just shut up and look at this.”

     The title slide sported a big Oscorp logo and underneath were the words:

 

**OSCORP INDUSTRIES**

Project GR-27

Peer Review Summary

Commissioned by OSCORP

Review conducted by Dr. Isaac Delaney

 

     “Project GR-27?” Weasel asked.

     “Yeah, I think it’s something related to Weapon X.”

     “Weapon X?! For real? Assholes are still fucking around with that shit?”

     Wade shook his head. “I don’t know… but I think Norman Osborn is up to something not quite too different.”

     “Norman Osborn, as in _the mayor?_ ”

     “Yup,” Wade said, bringing up the next slide.

 

**PROJECT GR-27: GOALS**

Audit materials submitted by GR-27 Chief Scientist Dr. Morgan Michaels

Observe GR-27 experiments at <LOCATION REDACTED>

Summarize GR-27 statue, expedience and risks

Recommend next steps

 

     The location may have been redacted, but Wade would have bet all his money that the experiments at least started at the abandoned building at Tompkins Square Park.

 

**PROJECT GR-27: OBJECTIVE**

Pair CRISPR genome editing with AI-controlled gRNA to identify and replace genetic mutations and errors. Base formula, noted with late Dr. Emrys Killebrew’s work, used and expanded upon--further testing needed.

If AI-controlled sequencing is successful, possibility of multitude of genetic diseases could be erased. (i.e. Cystic Fibrosis, Huntington’s, etc.)

 

     “This is crazy,” Weasel whispered. “Something that could cure all that?”

     “There’s always a catch,” Wade replied. So Osborn was using Killebrew’s notes after all, but he wasn’t trying to replicate his formula, no, he was trying to change it into something else entirely.

 

**PROJECT GR-27: STATUS**

**THE GOOD:**

High efficacy. Consistent results.

**THE BAD:**

Viral delivery mechanism incorrectly targets immune system.

Infected subjects highly contagious.

One subject exposed. 7 days later, all 40 subjects deceased.

 

     On the slide was a diagram, starting with the drawing of a rat labeled ‘Subject Zero’. An arrow pointed from the rat to forty smaller drawn rats. All forty were covered in red x’s. Wade hit the next button and a photograph of the lab mice popped on screen. The corpses of the rats rested together in a pile. Their tiny limbs and spines were twisted in painful ways and black moldy spots speckled their fur coats.

 

**THE UGLY:**

One infected subject could trigger global epidemic.

Lab techs nicknamed it “ _Devil’s Breath_.”

 

     “Devil’s breath, _jesus christ_. So the guy tries to make a cure-all and makes a bio-weapon instead…”

     “Cooool,” Weasel gasped. Wade glared at him. “What? That’s some James Bond, super villain shit right there.”

     Wade ignored him and clicked to the last slide.

 

**PROJECT GR-27: NEXT STEPS**

**CONTINUED DEVELOPMENT?**

Mr. Osborn believes the reward is worth the risk.

**MAINTAIN SECRECY.**

**NEXT STEP:**

Human trials.

 

     Wade slammed the laptop shut and threw it back to Weasel.

     “What the fuck?”

     “That’s it. I’m not about to stand by and let Norman Osborn get away with human experimentation,” he said, starting to pace the floor. All he could think about were those dozen rooms; padded, dark, and with shackles to keep prisoners from escaping. That, and the image of the pile of dead rats. To a man like Osborn, it might have well been a pile of human corpses. It didn’t matter. Not when a buck was to be made.

     “Well, then what _are_ you going to do?”

     “I’m stopping it.”

     Wade spun and made for the door. This ended tonight.

 

     ~*~

   

     Peter sat at the work table, running and re-running diagnostic tests as he fiddled with the settings. The whole system was still too erratic, and with Otto’s declining health, every little change could affect his brain in ways the two of them couldn’t possibly plan without months of testing. If only they had more time, but it looked like Otto was dying to hit the ground running at top speed and poor Peter had to try his best to keep up. Otto might not have a lot of concern for his own well-being, but Peter wasn’t about to stand aside and let the man do something that could permanently hurt him.

     “ _Son of a bitch!_ ”

     Peter’s head snapped up and he turned in his stool.

     “Doc?” he called out. He glanced over and off to the side Otto was standing by the small television in the kitchenette space. Peter stood up and as he got close, he saw that the news was on. He could hear the anchorwoman thanking Norman Osborn for being on their show’s segment today. Otto’s face was bright red as he glared daggers at the screen.

     “ _Thank you Susan,_ ” Osborn began. “ _But really, I just wanted an opportunity to assure the citizens of Manhattan that while the days may seem dark in these trying times, we are on the breakthrough of great things in this city. Crime rates have been dropping, and despite troubling vigilantes in the city like Spiderman, we are on the precipice of a better tomorrow for New York City.”_

     “That DAMN Norman Osborn! He doesn’t know what he has coming to him!” Otto bursted out, spit flying from his lips. He reached up and Peter watched in horror as he flicked the switch on the neural implant back on.

     “Wait! Doc--” Peter started but the arms already whirred to life. All four limbs cracked the cheap tiles on the floor as they smashed to the ground and lifted Otto up.

     “Otto, please, it’s alright--”

     “NO IT’S NOT!” he screamed. He turned and Peter could hardly recognize the man before him. This man was the embodiment of pure rage. “He deserves to pay! And now no one can stop me. I’ll show them all!”

     Peter’s spidey-sense went off like an alarm in his head and one metal arm came flying at him. Even with the warning, the arm was too damn fast and hit Peter square in the chest with enough force to send him tumbling backwards, the air completely knocked out of him. He choked in a breath, trying to get to his knees.

     “Otto, stop--” he begged, but got no further as another arm lashed out and slammed him back again. This time the back of his skull connected with the steel leg of a desk and pain ricocheted down his spine. The world went black and Peter crumpled to the floor, passed out.  

     Otto made for the rooftop exit. The arms not carrying him flipped tables and tossed equipment across the room as he went. One arm reached out and pried the metal door to the maintenance hallway off its hinges with a screech. Otto burst through the rooftop door and out into unsuspecting Manhattan.


	9. Teamwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here are chapters 9 & 10!

     Norman Osborn stood in the Oscorp elevator, talking on his cell and tapping his foot on the burgundy carpet.

     “No, please Shirley, I’m begging you. Clear everything for the rest of the night. Tell the police commissioner we’ll do dinner tomorrow night instead, right after his golf game, exactly.” He checked his wristwatch and shoved his hand back into his slack’s pocket. “After all those interviews this morning, Doctor Horowitz insists I get some rest.”

     The elevator chimed and the doors opened to a barren hallway. There was no natural light, not this far underground, and the low fluorescent lights casted spaced-out cones of light down the corridor.

     “Oh, and Shirley,” Norman began, striding down the hall, “Thank you for overseeing everything earlier this morning. Harry’s health is more important than anything else for me, you know that already, but your loyalty means a lot to me as well.”

     Norman Osborn reached the security door at the end of the hall and placed his hand flat to the scanner. The screen lit up as it scanned his palm and beeped in confirmation. The doors slid open and a man in a lab coat looked up from his computer as Norman strolled in.

     “Alright then. Good night, Shirley. Yes, see you tomorrow.”

     Norman hung up and sighed a deep, bone-tired sigh. He leaned with a hand against the back of a long control panel.

     “Where is it, Michaels?” he asked the man in the lab coat. Dr. Morgan Michaels popped up from his desk and walked around the huge, cylindrical vat in the center of the room over to Norman. He twisted his hands together and swallowed before he spoke.

     “Well… as I was saying earlier, sir… um, I think it’s be wise to wait just a little--”

     “Where. Is. It,” Norman repeated.

     “The serum is almost ready, sir. Tests have been more positive as of late and maybe in two or three months--”

     “No!” Norman screamed, slamming his fist down on the panel. He fell into a bout of coughing, the force of it wracking his body hard enough for him to double-over before he caught his breath again.  “Enough. You have been telling me this bullshit for months now. I’m taking that injection tonight.”

     “But sir--”

     “There’s not much time left...” Norman said. He turned his head towards the tall vat in the room’s center. Floating in the viscous pink liquid, hooked to breathing equipment and unconscious, was Harry Osborn.

     “For both of us.”

     Red lights flashed on, bathing the whole lab in dripping red shadows. An alarm blared once and Norman’s cell phone in his pocket let out a matching siren. He ripped it out and the text on the screen read _Exterior Security Breach: Code Blue 350._

     “What the hell is happening?” he barked. Michaels sprinted back over to his monitor and checked as fast as he could.

     “The alarms have been triggered on the ground floors.”

     “Goddammit! This is not what I need right now!”

     “Something… something’s climbing the exterior of the building, and heading up fast.”

     Norman Osborn started moving. “Get things ready while I’m gone--I’m heading up there.” He flew down the hall and into the elevator.

     He was sick of the freaks in this town.

 

     ~*~

 

     Peter woke up, sore and cold. He looked around confused as he picked himself out of a puddle on the floor. The second he did, his head swam and he blinked through the dizziness and got to his feet.

     The lab was a wreck. The doors to the maintenance hall were across the lab, smashed into a shelving unit and boxes of supplies had toppled to the floor. The door to the rooftop barely clung onto its hinges and gusts of rain came in with the wind, soaking the floor and the papers scattered across it. Peter dashed around an overturned desk and out onto the roof.

     He couldn’t have been out for long and yet he didn’t see Otto anywhere. However, three police cruisers went speeding up 8th avenue with their sirens and lights on full blast. They were headed north and Peter could guess that if he followed them, he’d find Otto sooner rather than later.

     He dashed over to the brick wall alcove where he always hid his backpack but the wall was collateral damage as well, and Peter had to toss brick after brick aside before he finally found his bag. The back of his head still ached spikes of pain down into his neck but he didn’t let it slow him down as he scrambled into his suit.

     Peter swung as fast as he could, the sheets of rain pelting him as he traveled at top speed, and he could hear the sirens of even more police cruisers as they made their way uptown. Nearing the edge of Central Park, Peter realized he should have known where Otto would be.

     Oscorp Tower.

     He landed on the side of the skyscraper and stuck himself to the wall. Looking up, he could see the outline of a mess of mechanical tentacles, dozens of stories up. A boom blasted out and Peter felt the concrete under his fingertips shake with the force of something powerful hitting the building. Chunks of the building’s exterior began to fall from up above, huge concrete blocks of it, and Peter watched as they plummeted to the ground towards the lines of emergency vehicles setting up around the building.

     Thinking fast, Peter shot a net of webbing between the tower and the building next door, and the chunks of falling debris hit it hard. The weight stretched the center of the web down dangerously low but the material held and the rubble came to a stop.

     People gawking on the sidewalk cheered out but there was no time to waste. Peter placed his feet on the surface of the building and began sprinting up the front of the tower. He shot lines of webbing up to help zip line himself even faster as he ran, and in a matter of seconds he reached the exploded hole in the side of the building.

     Inside appeared to be a large, ornate office. A massive wooden desk stood on one side and four carved marble pillars stood near each corner in the tall space. Rain came pouring in from the exposed wall, soaking into the Persian rug in the center and slicking up the tiled floor.

     Otto stood in the middle, his back to Peter, and in a tentacle’s grasp was Norman Osborn. The claws were squeezed around his throat and his hands held the tentacle in a death-grip as the arm raised him up into the air.

     “Stop! Let him go!”

     Otto’s head whipped around and saw Spiderman. His face was slick with rain, drops dripping from his nose and running down from his temples.

     “NEVER!”

     He lifted Norman even higher and Peter watched as the man’s hands slid from the tentacles and went limp by his sides.

     “I said let him go!” Peter shouted and shot a blast of webbing right at Otto's face. He hit Otto's eyes and he growled in frustration.

     Otto tossed Norman to the side, his body limp like a rag doll, and Norman hit the wall hard. His body bounced and rolled back onto the tiles but he was lucky. Another foot or so to the left and he would have gone clear out the hole in the wall and plummeting down the forty stories.

     Two tentacles shot at Peter while Otto struggled to get the webbing off, but this time Peter was waiting for them. He dove to the side just in time and the arms hit one of the pillars at full force, shattering the plaster. The column fell to the floor and pieces chipped and shot across the room in shards. Finally, one tentacle dug into the webbing on Otto's face and tugged it free. The razor sharp claws had sliced Otto's cheek, hot blood streaming down his face and neck, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

     “Leave me alone!” Otto screamed. He struck out towards Peter again and he almost got out of the way. One arm clipped his hip, tearing through the fabric like nothing and Peter felt the sting of it cutting through his skin.

     Caught in surprise, Peter didn't see the other arm until it grabbed his wrist with its sharp claws and dug in with crushing force.

     He grabbed at the tentacle and tried to pull it off, but too quickly, a second arm caught his other wrist and tugged them apart. The third and fourth arms snagged his ankles, cutting into his skin and Peter cried out in pain as Otto lifted him up in the air.

     The arms pulled, tighter and tighter, and Peter tried, but couldn’t tug himself loose.

     “There’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Otto growled.

     The arms kept pulling still and cold fear soaked Peter’s veins. Even with all his strength, Otto’s metal arms were still going to pull the limbs clear off of him like the legs off a bug. The muscles in his shoulders and hips screamed in protest and shot hot bursts of pain down his arms and legs.

     “Don’t…Otto…Please…”

     “It's too late now.”

     A gunshot boomed over the sound of the rain and a bullet struck the metal arm holding Peter’s wrist. The aim was perfect and bullet ripped through the tangle of wires peeking out from between two metal plates, sending a bright spark bursting out.

     “Hey, Doctor Octopus! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?”

     The shot tentacle hissed and went dead, the claw at the end losing its grip, and Otto dropped Peter like a sack of potatoes. Peter picked his head up and there, by the elevator, stood Wade. His guns were out and locked on Otto.

     “What do you think you're doing?!” Otto screamed. The lame tentacle recoiled into his back but he dashed at Wade using his remaining three.

     “Oh fuck!” Wade shrieked, rolling across the slick floor and underneath a flying tentacle that just missed him.

     Peter shot a mass of webbing at one of the tentacles clamped to the ground and Otto almost fell over as the arm was glued to the spot.

     “Wade! Over here!”

     They each slid behind a column while Otto was distracted.

     “What's the game plan here, Spidey?”

     “If only I could get close enough to turn the implant back off, but there’s no way-- not with those arms.”

     A jagged chunk of marble pillar came flying at them, just missing the column Wade was hiding behind and smashing in the wall, shattering the glass frame of a piece of art.

     “We’ll have to find a way to get the arms off of him instead. I just need a second to think,” Peter called out.

     “No problem,” Wade laughed. “Wade Winston Human-Distraction Wilson, at your service.”

     Wade got halfway across the room, dodging rubble being chucked at him and dragging Otto away from Peter, but he wasn't as fast as Peter.

     His luck finally ran out and a metal tentacle nailed him square in the back. A second arm just missed as he went flying into the wall but still caught his bicep with its claws and tore clean through the suit and deep into the flesh with a spray of blood.

     “Hey! Over here!” Peter shouted, making Otto spin on the spot. Peter tackled him to the ground as he spun and hit him right as his balance shifted. They hit the floor hard, but although the air was knocked out of Otto, the arms weren't phased.

     A tentacle plucked Peter up by his ankle and threw him into a column. He hit the ground with a huff and looked up.The arm rose up before it lashed out at Peter's head and he flinched, shutting his eyes and bracing for the impact but it never came. He heard a distinctive _‘thwip_ ’ and his eyes snapped open.

     A sticky line of webbing held the arm back and Peter looked in shock at Wade who was straining to hold the arm back with the line of web.

_His spare webshooter!_

     “Wade, you're a genius!” Peter yelled. He jumped out of the way just in time as another arm came zipping over and sliced through the line of web with its claws.

     “I know, but what did I do this time?”

     “The webshooter! Between the two of us we should be able to grab all three arms!”

     “Oooo, I'm picking up what you're putting down! Just say when, Spidey!”

     “I swear I'll kill you both!” Otto snarled.

     “Good luck, buddy,” Wade taunted. “Better assholes than you have tried!”

     Peter leapt over a rogue tentacle and landed so Otto was directly between him and Wade.

     “Now, Wade!”

     Wade shot and snagged the tentacle closest to him while Peter hit the two others dead on. Together, they pulled.

     “What are you doing?! Stop that!” Otto screamed.

     Peter just braced his legs and pulled even harder. The metal arms groaned in protest and the claws clicked as they opened and closed, but it was no use, they couldn't save themselves now. Peter tugged with all he had and the arms ripped clean off with a cracking snap.

     The tentacles went flying to the floor where they sparked and writhed on the ground like electric eels.

     “NO! NOOOOO! How dare you?!” Otto screamed, spilling onto the floor as he lost his balance.

     Peter dashed over to him on the ground and tried to reach behind his neck. Otto struggled against him, grunting and arms flailing at Peter to shove him off, but without the prosthetics he was just a sick, old man again.

     “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he said as Otto tried and tried to push him away.

     Peter did his best not to hurt him and he forced him still enough to flick the switch on the neural implant. The green light blinked out and Otto sagged like a ton of bricks in his arms. Peter shifted him to see if he was alive but thankfully Otto was still breathing, just passed out.

     He placed Otto down and decided it’d be best to web his wrists and ankles together in case he woke right back up. Now that Otto was stopped, Peter let out a long, shaky breath in relief.

     “Wade, we should get both of them down to the street for the medics--” Peter started, but froze when he turned around.

     Wade stood by Norman Osborn, who was still unconscious by the shattered wall, getting soaked in the sheets of rain. Peter watched in what felt like slow motion as Wade pulled out a pistol and pointed it straight at the man before Peter managed to scramble up.

     He threw himself between Wade and Norman, trying to shield the unconscious man on the wet ground as much as possible with his own body. His spidey-sense flared up, _it actually went off_ , as Peter stared down the barrel of Wade’s gun. All those men Wade had killed... was this what they had seen with their dying breaths? Peter’s heart pounded in his chest and yet at the same time his lungs tried to stop altogether.

     “Wait. Don’t,” he begged.

     “Move, Spiderman,” is all Wade said.

     “I can’t.”

     “GOD DAMMIT SPIDEY! I’m not about to stand here pointing a _fucking gun_ at you, move!” Wade cried. His tone was desperate. For honestly the first time, Peter was terrified of him.

     “I… I can’t.”

     Wade growled in tremendous frustration. He kept the gun locked in his steady grip but lowered the barrel until it pointed at the ground between them.

     “I know you don’t like it, but I have to do this.”

     “There’s no reason to kill this man!” Peter shouted.

     “You don’t understand what they did!” Wade shouted right back. His voice began to break as he screamed. “What they did to me and dozens like me! The fucking genetic _cocktail_ they injected me with, the weeks they fucking TORTURED ME! In every way possible! Until I either mutated or died, just so I could be one of their freak slaves! And this man,” Wade shouted, jabbing the gun in the air towards Norman. “He’s doing the exact same FUCKING THING!”

     “How do you know?”

     “Because of that abandoned lab we found! They were making the serum there!”

     “Wade,” Peter tried, “I tested that sample. It was nothing but stale, rusty water--”

     “No! You don’t understand! I went back without you and I found this!” Wade reached into his belt and pulled out the small flash drive. “There were more rooms… Rooms full of chains and restraints, and when I plugged in this, it’s Oscorp’s _big plans_ to start human trials on their miracle drug. Two years ago! So that ship’s already fucking sailed! And I’m gonna stop him before he can do any more _fucking_ _shit!”_

     Wade raised the gun again. The drops of rain dripped from the end. Rivulets of water ran over the lens of Peter’s mask. The whole city of New York seemed to be drowning in the downpour around them.

     “You don’t have to shoulder all of this by yourself!” Peter tried to bargain.

     “Yes. I do.”

     “Please, Wade! You don’t!”

     “Move.”

     “We’re supposed to be a team!” he screamed. Wade flinched as if Peter had slapped him.

     “Just… don’t. Don’t kill him,” Peter whispered. “I _swear_ we’ll put a stop to this together and do it the right way. We’ll call Rogers, Stark… _everyone_ if we have to and they’ll put Norman away. Please, Wade. You have to trust me. You’ll never feel any better if you stoop to his level.”

     “I… I can’t…”

     “Trust me.” Peter lifted his hand out to the gun pointing through him and shifted closer to Wade. There was a possibility that there was no talking Wade down from this one. If it came to it, Peter would have to fight him, to stop him from shooting Norman no matter what it took. Wade’s gun trembled in his hands but he stood locked in place.

     “Please, Wade. I’m begging you.”

     Peter crawled forward even closer and now it’d be too late. Even with his spidey-sense and super-reflexes, if Wade shot now it’d be point blank. He dared to reach out further and his hand touched the back of Wade’s hand wrapped around the handle of the pistol. He tried to tug his hand down to the side and for a split second, Peter’s heart froze in his chest when Wade’s hand didn’t budge.

     “P-Peter?”

     “Just trust me.”

     This time, Wade’s hand swung down and Peter slipped the gun out of his hand as smoothly as possible and placed it aside on the ground. He leapt up and threw himself in Wade’s arms and the older man crushed him in his embrace with an anguished sob.

     “Oh god, I’m sorry,” Wade croaked.

     “It’s okay,” Peter reassured, pressing their masked foreheads together as the rain continued to pour around them in sheets. “I promise, it’s going to be okay.”


	10. Born Anew

_Two days later._

 

     Wade stood in the middle of the empty laboratory. Orange lights flickered shapes across his face and the warm air was becoming stifling the longer he stood. The crack of flames licked the stacks of papers on the desks, caught the stacks of cheap cotton linens and boiled liquids in their test tubes before the glasses themselves started shattering from the heat. An explosion from down the hall shook the floor but Wade stood planted in the center of the room.

     The idea that he should be afraid crossed his mind. This was after all, the exact place where he had died his very first death. Where Ajax and his team had pushed him past every last boundary of pain he had never imagined but found the hard way regardless. Where rage and pain and hopelessness had taken over every last inch of Wade’s heart and refused to let go.

     He stood there in the center of Ajax’s lab and watched it burn to the ground around him. There were no ghosts screaming, no battle to the death, not a single soul besides him, and the world no longer existed outside of the sweltering room.

     The flames crept closer and closer to the wall lined with oxygen tanks but Wade did nothing to stop them. Smoldering curtains fell off their rings, burning plastics sizzled black smoke, and wisps of ashes caught in the flame’s updraft swirled around Wade’s eyes but he squinted through them. He wanted to watch the whole place go up in flames.

     The fire kissed the plastic tubing connecting the oxygen tanks and just like that the flames hit pure 02. The boom was deafening. Wade would have braced against the impact blast but before he could even react he felt instead the breeze of fresh air. He dared to crack his eyes open and he stood in shock.

     The ocean of ash and rubble around him was knee deep. Chucks of broken metal and framing stood up from the debris like shark fins. The sun hitting him was hot but struggled through the sweeps of ash blowing up and away in the wind. Ajax’s lab was nothing now besides a pile of dust and he stood in the middle, unharmed and in awe. He was okay. He was fine.

     He looked down at his hands and they were coated in gray, smudgy ashes. Being reborn wasn’t something everyone got to experience but for Wade it was an old hat. This time though, Wade didn’t look around in fury and fear and confusion. There were none of those feelings left. Just calm serenity--just _acceptance_ \-- and that felt like a new hat. The ash around his legs could not hurt him. _Francis_ couldn’t hurt him. Not anymore.

     The sun above him was so very bright and Wade glanced up to squint at it and--

 

     --blinked the sleep from his eyes. The curtain was up on the window over his bed and he could feel the strong rays hitting the side of his face not smooshed into the pillow. He stretched his legs out under the sheet and he felt Peter still asleep in his arms, his back pressed to Wade’s front, and Wade squeezed him even closer.  

     Peter stirred and hummed a content sound, still half asleep. Wade pressed a kiss to the exposed slope of Peter’s neck and trailed them down and across his shoulder blade. A tiny breath of a laugh left Peter and Wade savored it. The hazy edges of his dream already began to fade back into the recesses of his subconscious but hearing that sweet, little sound shook the last of the images away.

     Peter moved to flip over and Wade pulled his arm away to let him nestle in. Peter flopped down but when his eyes fluttered open, he gasped a choked breath and flung himself out of bed.

     “What the fuck?!”

     He just managed to not hit the floor like a sack of bricks and scrambled up, clutching the sheet with him. He held it in front of his boxers like someone who got caught mid-change and Wade sat up, more than puzzled. After all, it’s not like he hadn’t seen, and _touched_ , the whole package already.

     “Are you okay, baby boy?” Wade asked. He stood up from the bed and took a step forward but Peter jumped back from him. Wade froze in his spot.

     “What’s wrong?”

     Peter stared at him with a look Wade could only describe as pure confusion. Wade’s heart began to race in his chest and he took another small step forward but cringed when Peter flinched away. Peter took another step back and his mouth dropped open as he slowly dropped the sheet he had clutched in his hands.

     “ _Wade_?” he gasped.

     “Yeah, who else would it be?” Wade asked. He tried to keep the panic from setting in. Peter just gave him another confusing look, one that screamed ‘ _oh really?’_ and Wade didn’t know _how_ to process that one. “What’s wrong, Peter?”

     “Oh my god, _Wade._ ”

     “What?!”

     “You… should go check the mirror…”

     Wade’s heart dropped from the dread blossoming in his chest. It was that look on Peter’s face that had him spinning around and dashing into the bathroom. He flicked the light on and almost dropped at the sight of his own reflection.

     Blue eyes stared back at him from a face he barely recognized. The contorted, scarred mess of gnarled skin on his face was gone. Stubble dusted his chin and cheeks and faded up to the short hair on his temples. The hair on the top of his head was a bit longer and the dirty-blond strands shone under the harsh fluorescent lights. And his eyebrows! His eyebrows were back and the old scar that nicked the brow over his right eye stood out like an old friend.

     He flung his long sleeve shirt off as fast as he could. The scars were missing there as well and, _oh man,_ even his chest hair was back! He peeked under the waistband of his sweatpants and yup, no scars there anymore either. Wade glanced back up at the mirror like maybe it had been playing a trick on him the first time, but it wasn’t a trick.

     His scars were gone.

     “Oh shit.”

 

     _THE END_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. I was completely inspired by the Spiderman/Deadpool Kelly run where Wade looses his scars. Thanks so much to everyone for reading! <3


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